


A Dog’s Life

by gatesmasher



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, Animal Transformation, F/M, Harm to Animals, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-27
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 08:44:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 68,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1421956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatesmasher/pseuds/gatesmasher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alien spirit has 'borrowed' Daniel Jackson's body, promising to return it in two month's time.  But Daniel discovers another spirit has hostile designs on Samantha Carter.  In order to protect her, he has no choice but to inhabit the body of a dog.  Guarding her from all threats, he hides his true identity, as well as his secret love for her. </p>
<p>But a dog's life is a dangerous thing, and the threats Daniel faces off-world pale in comparison to the peril he faces on Earth itself.  In the end, saving Sam may prove easier than saving himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Transformation

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to psychobones for an amazing beta and to pattrose for the artwork!

 

[ ](http://s71.photobucket.com/albums/i121/PattRose1/A%20Dogs%20Life/?action=view&current=coverdog3-1.jpg)

 

You’d think, after all he’d been through, he’d have known better.  The spirits on Tonane’s planet turned out to be real, after all.  But he hadn’t taken the Suss’risa seriously.  Oh, he took the Aluants _belief_ in the Suss’risa spirits seriously enough, but he hadn’t considered the possibility of such spirits as reality, and now he was paying the price.

So here he was…floating?...hovering?...whatevering, in some other dimension or plane of existence or some such damn thing, and watching a Suss’risa animate his body, holding what should be his own hands up for inspection, pirouetting around and stamping his feet to get a feel for it.

“Very nice, Daniel Jackson,” his own voice said.  “I thank you for the use of your body.”

~Um, it wasn’t exactly voluntary,~ Daniel…communicated.  He wasn’t speaking, not really, but the entity occupying his body understood him.

“Please, do not worry,” it said with completely unreassuring reassurance.  “Your body will be returned in due time.”  It pulled off and replaced his glasses several times, comparing views with a pleased smile.

~I want it returned now,~ Daniel insisted.

“You yourself invited me in,” the thing said, tugging delightedly at Daniel’s hair.

~Not on purpose.~  If a floating consciousness could pout, Daniel did.

“Nonetheless.  Your openness constituted an invitation, an invitation of which I am taking full advantage.”  The inquisitive hands traveled down Daniel's body and paused at his groin.

Daniel gave an ethereal groan.  ~I definitely didn't invite you to do that!~

Faintly nonplused, the thing ceased it's explorations.  "Ah yes, perhaps at a later time."  Recovering its bonhomie, it turned to the several priests, acolytes and laypeople in attendance in the temple alcove.  "For now, please prepare, my friends," it ordered.

The sacred hide drums whose beaten rhythm accompanied Daniel's unfortunate ceremony were lovingly stowed away, traveling packs and equipment pulled out.  From the many animistic and pantheistic figures dominating the hillside temple, Daniel had judged this world to have close cultural ties with the Sami people of Earth's Arctic region, whose native religion is marked by a deep connection between the natural and spiritual worlds.  But he seriously doubted any of the Sami had experienced actual possession by their spirits.

~Are you Ascended?~ Daniel asked, desperately trying to buy time until he came up with a plan to get out of this mess, preferably before Jack found out.

"Ah, you know of the Ascended,” it said.  It studied Daniel's floating consciousness with renewed interest.  "Yes, I see it now, a faint echo, just around the edges..."

An echo of the Ascended?  Daniel remembered a year ago on Kheb, Oma Desala touching his cheek.  He wondered if that was what the Suss'risa detected.

"But to answer your question," the spirit continued, "no, they are almost as high above our level as above your own.  No, my kind simply do not need corporeal form.”

~So if you don't need corporeal form, why…?~

“I merely wish to…run an errand.  An errand which requires a body.  The Aluants revere my kind, yet are so tiresomely suspicious.  As if simply borrowing a body for two months is--”

~Two months!~

“A mere blink of time, Dr. Jackson.  I’m sure you won’t even miss it.”

~Damn it, I will miss it!  You can’t just waltz away in my body!~  Great, first Machelo, now this guy!  ~Look,~  Daniel pleaded, trying to be reasonable, ~my team won’t let this happen.  They’re not just going to let you, uh, me, walk away without them.~

This seemed to actually get through to the creature and it paused in its preparations.  “Ah,” it mused, thinking with theatrical concentration, one forefinger placed to its temple in a classic pose.  “Then perhaps my Aluant friends could stage a kidnapping.”

~Um, perhaps your Aluant friends could get themselves killed by a pissed off Jack O’Neill?~

The entity in his body laughed heartily.  Daniel was sure he himself had not laughed so hard in almost 30 years and grew, if possible, even more irritated.  He wished he had teeth to grind.  That some other consciousness could derive more emotion and enjoyment from his own body…

“Ah, but you yourself convinced your teammates to surrender their weapons," the Suss’risa said triumphantly, brushing tears of mirth out of its eyes.  "No, I believe we can gain the Stargate without bloodshed on anyone’s part.”

Daniel mentally huffed with frustration.  Yes, he had urged Jack to cooperate with Alutia's no-weapon policy.  He'd been eager to discover the reason for the planet's apparent immunity to the Goa'uld.  Well, it was pretty obvious now why the Goa'uld avoided this world.  Unfortunately it was a reason for Earth to avoid it too.

He turned his attention the Aluant spiritual leader who had led his meditation in the temple.  ~Isedore,~ he tried to call out.  ~Why didn’t you warn me?~

The Suss’risa smiled at the robed High Priest.  “Daniel Jackson is upset with you, my friend.”

The Priest looked honestly startled, and even a little hurt.  “But, Dr. Jackson,” he said, directing his words to the empty air on the other side of the room, clearly unable to see or hear Daniel.  “We believed you open to this experience.  I explained it to you.”

Yes, in the most obscure and ambiguous language imaginable, High Priest Isedore had indeed explained the idea of ‘exchanging viewpoints’ with the ‘spiritual plane.’  ~I thought he was speaking in metaphors,~ was Daniel's sullen reply.

Again the hearty laugh.

~At least let me warn my teammates so they don’t make this same mistake!~

The Suss’risa paused to think once more, finger to temple, looking exactly like the Scarecrow when he’d gotten his brains.  “No other of my…faction is in the market for a vacation.  However, some of my kind are unscrupulous and have been known to trick a mortal of its form.”

~Oh, like I was tricked?~

He watched his own brows lower in what he’d been told was his signature frown as the entity grew annoyed for the first time.  “No, Dr. Jackson.  You were not tricked.  However…”

The Suss’risa turned and stared at one wall of the temple chamber.  _Through_ one wall of the chamber.  Daniel maneuvered himself close to his erstwhile body, trying to follow the spirit’s attention.  It took only a moment to learn how to perceive the spirit world, it was like following a thread, a path through the physical world now made immaterial.  The Suss’risa guided his sight out of the temple, through the intricately carved and painted walls of thick mountain spruce, arching up high over the bustling town he and the rest of SG-1 had hiked to that morning.

The psychic thread he followed led to…something.  Something that looked…sour.  And sounded…cold.  And felt…dark.

“Do you comprehend it?  The Aluants are too well guarded against it, even in sleep.  However, strangers can be tricked into an invitation.”

Daniel studied the dark entity, trying to comprehend what it, in turn, studied.  He sensed its movement, as if it spun about, triangulating, homing in on something down below it on the ground that Daniel interpreted as a clear and pure aura that seemed familiar…

~Sam!  That’s Sam, isn’t it?  Jack and Teal’c would never lower their guard, not even in a dream, but Sam’s a scientist, she’s interested in new experiences.  Maybe not as foolhardy as me--~  He broke off, finding himself ridiculously checking around as if to make sure Jack wasn’t listening.

“The Dark One does not return that which it borrows.”

~Please.  Look at it, it’s watching her.  Please help her.  Or let me help her.~

The frown intensified.  In a peevish voice, the Suss’risa said, “You have imbued your physical form with a lingering but keen moral compass that is quite annoying.”

~I imbued my body with…?  How is that possible?~

“‘How’ is a question for a higher awareness than our own."  It quieted in thought, coming to a decision in a few moments.  "Isedore, take note,” it directed the High Priest, then turned to Daniel.  “Daniel Jackson, I will return to this planet in exactly 60 of its revolutions.  You must be here at that time or forfeit your corporeal form.  However, if you wish to spend that time acting as guard to your comrade, I will make it possible.”

~Yes, yes!  Anything!~

Daniel returned his attention to the spirit world, and immediately sensed himself moving, as if flying, out of the temple, propelled high in the air.  Auras of townsfolk clotted thick in the populous settlement below, but he found it easy to pick out the three amorphous forms that were his teammates, touring a mineral warehouse at Sam’s insistence while Daniel had consulted in the temple.

The dark astral cloud that was the hostile spirit hove into view and Daniel readied himself, wondering how the Suss’risa would make it possible for him to combat it.  However, he suddenly found himself being steered away, bypassing it completely, bypassing his team also. The picturesque pseudo-Norwegian stave structures of the town passed under him.  Helpless, he traveled out over the countryside, catching a glimpse of the Stargate, standing like a child's toy on a hill above the woods that surrounded the town and outlying farms.  Then he veered again, picking up speed, rocketing a mile or more before abruptly plunging into those woods, down like a striking raptor, like lightening, homing in on a form, a living entity he was sure, but he didn’t have a chance to comprehend it before he smashed into it.

‘Into’ being the operative word.

With a soul splintering slam, he found himself once more in possession of a body.

He clung to consciousness, blinking stubbornly at the leaf mould inches from his eyes.  As he lay there, recovering slowly, nose twitching, he found could smell quite a lot: the scent of the birch leaves from last fall decaying under a newer layer of aspen, the aspen smell leading back to the tree itself off to his right, the earthy scent of mushrooms clustered out of sight under a piquant-scented bush he didn’t recognize, and up in the birch, the unmistakable smell of a small animal, a…squirrel.  Yeah, that was it, it was a squirrel.  A squirrel was up there, just out of reach.  Damn it, he wished he could jump up high enough to get it, and once he got hold of it, he’d--he’d--

What the hell?  What was with all the smells and the squirrelly urges?

Daniel shook his head, dirty leaves flying, and struggled to his feet.

All of his feet.

All _four_ of his feet.

Oh no.  Daniel stared stupidly, willing the paws he sported at the ends of what should be his arms to turn into hands.  Paws?  He lurched about, slipping, leaves flying, twisting his head from side to side.  His vision was wonky and there was something sticking out of his face where his nose should be.  He sneezed at the dust he'd stirred up and automatically licked his nose to clear it, moistening it in the process.  A snout!

Paws, a snout…  He was too big to be a fox, too heavy for a coyote, too short-haired for a wolf, too many legs for a human, goddamn it!  A dog!  He was a dog!

That Suss’risa had put him into a dog.  How the hell could he help Sam or anybody else like this?  He was going to run right back there and bite that son of a bitch on the ass.  Well, maybe not bite, after all that was his real body.  And in fact he really didn’t like the idea of biting anybody.  Anybody human, as least.  That squirrel on the other hand…there it was!  Chittering up on that branch, just out of reach, if only he could jump up high enough he could--

Damn it!  Forget the squirrel, he ordered himself firmly.  The question was, what could he do to help Sam and his team in this form?  He strained mentally, trying to see if he could leave the canine body, but found he could no more do that than he could have extracted his soul from his real body before.  So what was the point of putting him in here?

He sat on his haunches, concentrating back the way he had come.  He ignored the sensory input of the physical world…

There!  He could still see the world as a Suss’risa.  He could mark the progress of the Dark One off in the distance as it hovered, moving slowly, unseen by those in the physical world.  Except Daniel, apparently.

Where that thing was, Sam was sure to be too.  It was riding above her like a monstrous balloon on a tether.

Daniel stood up, looking down at his new body a little more calmly now.  From what he could see, he was a dark brown color, medium-to-large sized he supposed, judging from how high off the ground his head was.  He didn’t know much about dogs.  That was Jack’s thing.

Well, it was apparently his thing now.

He blinked hard.  He’d thought it was just the shock, but there really seemed to be something different about his vision.  He looked down at his paws again.  They were slightly fuzzy, but when he looked up at the dim tree branches overhead, he could see every sharp detail, the movement of the twitchy little squirrel especially noticeable.

He aimed one last glare at the squirrel, trusting it got the message of just how lucky it was that Daniel had bigger fish to fry.  The growl that vibrated his throat sent it up higher into the canopy and he turned away, satisfied.

He set off in the direction the Dark One had been moving, not being able to spare the mental concentration to see or track it at this point.  He could smell something in the distance, rock or metal, something unnatural, yet known…the Stargate!  He ran faster, letting the dog’s body do the work, moving by instinct, picking the springiest detritus to land on, the quickest routes through low-lying vegetation.

Soon enough he felt hot and found his tongue lolling out, cooling in the wind as he dodged a prickly bush, then vaulted over a downed tree trunk.  That’s right, he knew enough about to dogs to know they didn’t have sweat glands like humans, and used their moist tongues to dissipate heat.

Within minutes, he’d found a perfect medium: fast enough to eat the distance quickly, not so fast as to overheat or run afoul of woodland obstacles.

He tried not to, but couldn’t help but enjoy it.  Those four legs were short by Daniel’s previous six-foot standard, but damn if they didn’t move fast.  Sailing over a rocky depression, he felt like he was flying.  Giving himself over to his doggy instincts, he eked out a little more speed.

Less than an hour later he was still running strong when the ground began to upslope, the trees to thin and the naquadah tang of the Stargate filled his nose.  He slowed to a cautious prowl, going from bush to bush, unsure of what would be needed of him here.

Then he heard Jack’s voice, raised in a shout.  “Look, if you really want an archeologist, I’ll try and find you one, but you can’t have ours!”

Ears twitching distractingly, Daniel homed in on the sound.  His approach took longer than he intended: the sounds were farther away than he'd thought.  His ears were that much better.

When he finally cleared the woods and came over the rise to the Stargate, he blinked hard, his eyes tearing up.  The light seemed much too bright, though the sky was gray with overcast.  Then he saw sharp shadows and squinted up for a second look.  No, the sky was blue, just with a grayish tinge.  He blinked again, looking around the Gate clearing.  What he'd put down to the dimness in the woods was more than that.  All the colors looked off.  He couldn't see any green at all, just muddy yellowish-gray trees and grass.  This was apparently the way canine eyes saw the world.  Then he shook his head.  His new world view was unimportant.  He needed to concentrate on the situation at hand.

And there they all were, coming up the trail from Alutia: the Suss’risa occupying his body and its 'kidnappers,' pursued closely by SG-1.  Seeing his team, _smelling_ them, his tail wagged, as automatic as a smile to a human.  The wagging stopped and his hackles rose as he took in the Suss’risa's party: Isedore was not there, but Daniel recognized two or three of the acolytes from the temple, although they were no longer dressed like Aluant natives.  They all held knives, seemingly threatening 'Daniel.' Although Daniel knew Jack and Teal'c had at least a dozen knives secreted on their persons, both of them were empty-handed.

Pausing to turn around at the base of the Stargate steps, the Suss’risa held its hands up in the nonthreatening manner Daniel himself always employed.  Huh, must be muscle-memory.  It said, “Jack, please don’t hurt anyone.  These people are desperate for help."  One of its party began to dial the DHD.  "I believe them when they say that they will not harm me.  I know I will come back.  I know it.”

Jack raised a warning finger.  “Daniel, don’t start again.  This is not happening.”

One of the Suss’risa's party said, “I’m sorry, Colonel, but it is.”  She nodded to a comrade, and he threw something shaped like a grenade on the ground near Jack's feet.  SG-1 scattered and dived as it exploded, smoke spewing out.  Daniel ducked his head against the stinging smoke, half-conscious of a protective nictating membrane coming down over his eye like a second eyelid.  He heard a wormhole engage.  SG-1, apparently realizing the 'grenade' was only a smoke bomb, rushed up just as the wormhole cut out and a breeze cleared the air.

The Suss’risa and its entourage were gone.  SG-1 stopped and stared.

“Well, shit,” Jack remarked conversationally, not fooling any of his three listening teammates.  “Carter, Teal’c, see the address?”

Sam shook her head mutely, her wide eyes grayish to Daniel’s sight, rather than the bright blue they should be.

“No, O’Neill," Teal'c reported.  "They had the advantage of high ground.”

All three radiated anger and dismay, but Jack was positively vibrating with rage.  Most directed at the Aluants, but Daniel was sure some at Daniel himself for seemingly cooperating with his own kidnapping.  Jack kicked a rock and it pinged off the base of the Stargate steps.  Daniel cringed low, feeling his tail tuck between his legs.  It really was Daniel's naivety that had gotten all of them into this situation…

“All in favor of going back to town, getting our guns and shooting the shit outta that temple?” Jack asked, raising his own hand.

Sam and Teal’c just looked at him.

Jack dropped his hand, glancing up at the silent Stargate.  “Damn it, Daniel,” he muttered.

Daniel only just stopped himself from voicing an apologetic whine.

“Sir, we don’t know what may’ve influenced Daniel, what threats were made against him, or us.”  Sam was ever the peacemaker between her two volatile friends, and Daniel thanked her silently.

Jack took a deep breath.  “I know.”  He scrubbed at his hair, then replaced his cap and said, “So all in favor of going back to town, getting our guns and asking a few pointed questions?”

No one looked remotely happy, but the three of them headed back down the hill on the path to town, Daniel shadowing them.  After about half a mile, they ran into another group: High Priest Isedore and three acolytes.  They were carrying SG-1's gear, trotting in their haste.

“Whoa, there, guys, you missed the party," Jack said with false affability, steadying the Priest with one hand.

Daniel crept through the underbrush, getting closer to hear their conversation.

"Colonel O'Neill!" Isedore gasped, out of breath.  "Please, I'm sorry--"

Hand still on the man's shoulder, Jack's affability vanished as he gave him a sharp shake.  "What exactly happened?" he demanded.

"I--we have brought your packs, even your weapons, as a gesture of goodwill."

Right, Daniel thought sourly, now that there was no chance SG-1 could possibly fight Isedore's precious Suss’risa.  He grudgingly allowed, however, that giving an angry Jack O'Neill a weapon was the act of a brave and ethical man.

"Who were those guys you let kidnap my teammate?”

“Please, Colonel.  I understand that we failed in your trust, but do not blame any but myself."

"Don't worry.  I don't."

Isedore nodded in resignation.  "As for who, they are a trading partnership from another planet."

"What planet?"

"They never shared their address.”

Jack raised his brows.  “Trusting, much?”

Isedore nodded nervously.  “…Yes, trusting.  We are very trusting.  It pleases the Suss’risa.”

Daniel edged a bit closer, but he'd grown too bold.  He snapped a thick twig under his paw, and Teal’c glanced back sharply.  Daniel shrunk back under cover of a thick manzanita stand, but not before he saw something disturbing.  With Teal’c distracted by Daniel’s own movements and Jack concentrating on the Aluants, Sam had turned away from all of them, a vague expression on her face, as if she was listening to something.  Daniel pricked his ears, but couldn’t hear anything but Jack’s sarcastic response to Isedore.  Then suddenly Sam walked away, off the path, into the concealing brush, unseen and unheeded by the Aluants and her teammates alike.

Crap!

Daniel closed his eyes, extending his spirit senses.  Yes, it was the Dark One.  It had extended a--a tentacle-like thing, an appendage maybe.  It touched Sam’s head, influencing her, feeding her lies.  Daniel could almost smell the wrongness.  It was persuading her, promising her something...  Daniel’s heart sank.  It was him, Daniel himself, that was promised.  In some hazy, dream-like way, Sam was convinced she pursued the rescue of her missing teammate, and off she sped, dodging through the trees, farther away from safety every moment, chasing an empty specter.  Horror growing, Daniel watched the sour tendrils insinuate themselves into Sam’s pristine aura, slithering sickeningly.  That something so vile could corrupt someone so beautiful and pure--

With a low snarl Daniel abandoned his observation of the spiritual plane and returned to the real world.  He shot off immediately, darting across the path to plunge into the woods on the other side, angling to intercept Sam.  He couldn’t sense the Dark One's activities without stopping to concentrate, but he didn’t think he needed to at this point.  He was sure he just needed to distract her to break the spell.

Sam had gotten a head-start, but she couldn't come close to Daniel’s speed.  All he had to do was follow her scent.  SGC personnel weren't allowed to wear any fragrance or bathe with any scented products: you couldn't very well hide from a Jaffa troop if you reeked of citrus/jasmine shampoo, now could you?  Nevertheless, even the workaday military soap Sam used stood out like a neon signpost in the natural scents of the forest.  Not that it mattered.  It seemed like, on some level, he'd always known the fresh clean scent that was uniquely Sam.

In just a few minutes that familiar scent grew strong, and he caught sight of her running with single-minded intensity through the close-crowded tree trunks.

He accelerated toward her and took a breath, intending to let out a loud howl, when a something suddenly smashed down on him.  Like an invisible giant swatting a fly, a concussive force of air exploded right beside Daniel and sent him tumbling headlong, paws over ears; leaves, twigs and small branches flying along with him in his wake.

He lay stunned, fighting once again to stay conscious.  He couldn’t afford to pass out, Sam still needed him.  Needed him more than ever, in fact, because the Dark One could clearly detect Daniel and he’d now foolishly tipped his hand, er, paw.

He rolled to his feet, whining softly at several bruises, but reassuring himself that nothing was broken.  Listening closely, he pushed out of the mahogany bush he'd landed in, sniffing for--there!  Sam’s scent!  His tail thumped against the bole of an oak.  By the intensity and direction, she was only a few dozen yards away and didn’t seem to be moving any longer.  Daniel moved stiffly toward her, shaking off lingering soreness.

In the quiet of the woods came a metallic snapping sound, then Sam's voice, sounding uncharacteristically unsure.  “Colonel?  Can you read me?”

There was a brief crackle of the radio, and Jack’s voice barked out, “Carter!  What is your status and position?”  Jack was obviously pissed beyond his limits by both his wayward scientists.

“Colonel, I--I’m not sure why--I’m in the woods, I think to the south.  I thought I heard Daniel, or--or saw him…?”

There was a long pause.  Then in clipped tones Jack said, “Copy that, Major.  Hold your position.  Teal’c and I are on your trail.”

“Sir, I’m sorry, I--I can’t really explain it…”

“Carter,” Jack said, his now calm voice cutting through her confusion.  “Just stay put, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Sam responded, her tone betraying a misery Daniel confirmed as he caught sight of her.  She stood slumped, her eyes wide with confusion, a hand to one temple, massaging it as she cut off the radio.  She shook her head then straightened up, looking around herself with a resolve betrayed by a shiver.

[ ](http://s71.photobucket.com/albums/i121/PattRose1/A%20Dogs%20Life/?action=view&current=page9-1.jpg)

Daniel crouched low, watching, silent, unsure what to do now.  He stretched his awareness out and detected no sign of the Dark One hovering over them.  He'd obviously succeeded in distracting Sam from the trance-state the Suss’risa had put her in.  So was that it?  Was it gone?  Was it all over now?

Daniel’s ears twitched and pricked at a distant thumping, rustling sound.  It was coming from the direction Sam had been headed, growing louder.  Sam squinted, peering hard around the little clearing she stood in, Daniel's dog-sight more suited to this dimness than her human eyes.  This was a much thicker section of the woodland, more forest than woods really, overgrown, dark, cramped and claustrophobic.

Ground vibrating, the thumping came nearer, accompanied by the sharp report of breaking branches.  Sam crouched, feeling around in the detritus, lifting a stick which Daniel could see was useless with rot.  She slipped a hand into her boot and pulled out a small but sharp knife.  Daniel could smell her fear, sharp and prickly like a sudden sweat, but she straightened, resolute, and Daniel filled with pride.  He was ready to defend such bravery at any cost.

The incoming sound was very close when the smell hit him: an animal, warm-blooded, big…  It was a bear.  No time to analyze how he knew it, he just did.  And he knew something more, even as the lumbering form shot into the small clearing with a shower of leaves and broken branches, rising to its full seven foot height, Sam choking off a gasp.

He knew it was more than just a bear.  There was a scent of sourness under the ursine stench, a malevolence to its small-eyed glare, a darkness flickering about it.  As Daniel was in this dog’s body, so the Dark One was in this bear.  And Daniel knew one more thing.  If the Suss’risa couldn’t possess Sam’s body on a spiritual plane, it would possess it on the physical.  And there would be nothing left when it finished.

After two deceptively clownish steps into the clearing, the bear lunged forward with an ear-ringing roar, spittle spattering from its yellow fangs, barreling straight at the slender woman who tensed, ready to meet her fate, however hopeless the battle.

But it never reached her.  Daniel found himself in mid-flight without thought or planning, sailing directly at the black furred neck, his own fangs bared, his snarl silent.

The impact of the two animals threw the bear off track and Daniel sank his canines in through the thick fur and fatty flesh, into blood and muscle, the force of his leap driving his teeth deep, instinctively locking his jaw and shaking his head to tear and rend, causing as much damage as possible.  As blood spurted around his face, he was dimly aware of the bear lurching to the side, bypassing the dodging Sam, its roar of anger changed to surprise and pain.

Then a heavy paw impacted Daniel’s flank and with an explosion of pain in his shoulder, he was flying again, uncontrolled this time, the scattering chunks of bear pelt and gobbets of flesh his only compensation.

He landed in the leaf mould like a meteor striking down, a crater forming from the debris flung to all sides.  He sprang up immediately, pain subsumed in the urgency of battle.

The bear roared again, rage and frustration at Daniel's interference joining with the pain he'd caused.  It tossed its head, stamping its paws, the sharp talons scraping ruts in the hard packed dirt.

Daniel faced it, and the two animals stalked one another, a slow dance to the tune of vicious snarls as they rotated around the tight clearing.

With his new wider vision, Daniel could clearly see Sam in what would’ve been the peripheral vision of his human eyes.  She’d discarded the useless stick and held her knife at ready, squinting back and forth between Daniel and the bear, as she stepped carefully backwards.

Good.  Daniel almost wagged his tail.  Sam would back away far enough and eventually turn and run, meet up with Jack and Teal’c, and the three of them would get the hell out of Dodge and back to Earth.

Sam's boot stepped into the detritus with an audible snap and the bear bellowed, spittle flying in streamers, its hot, moist breath enveloping Sam as she shuddered and froze.

Daniel sprang back toward his teammate, keeping himself as a buffer.

Okay, dog versus bear…  Daniel was no animal behaviorist, but even he knew what the normal course of events would lead to: Bear, one; Dog, zero.  Or in this case: Bear, two; Daniel and Sam, zero.  Yes, in the _normal_ course of things a dog would have no chance, but Daniel was not a normal dog.  His canine instincts urged him to lock on to his opponent and never let go.  But his human reasoning knew that would never work.  Those three inch talons would rip him to shreds before he could begin to make headway against the 600 pounds of bone and muscle confronting him.

The radio crackled to life behind him.  “Carter!  Tell me that racket's not coming from your location!”

“Sir--!”

Faster than Daniel would’ve believed possible, the bear darted forward, driving right over Daniel, one deadly paw up and swiping at Sam like a lightning strike.

With a scream his teammate went down and Daniel pounced, galvanized into action.  From his position under the bear, he leapt straight up, fastening onto its throat, at the fleshiest and most vulnerable point.

The big animal reared up with a bellow choked off by Daniel’s bite.  It stood on its hind legs, backing off of Sam’s sprawled form, but when its forepaws came up to dislodge him with a damaging swipe, Daniel had already released his hold, wrenching and gouging at the tender flesh as he dropped to the ground.  The bear swung futilely at the empty air where Daniel had just been, then it to dropped down on all fours again, blood spattering as it shook its head.

This time, however, Daniel didn’t let it rest.  He sprang again immediately, chomping down like iron on its neck in the same spot as he had bitten the first time.  He didn’t wait for it to react, but with a wrenching twist released his grip and let the momentum of his leap carry him off and over the wounded animal, fresh blood following him in a steaming arc.

The enraged bear huffed hard as it spun on its hind legs, but its incipient roar died with a gurgle as Daniel once again leapt and clamped tight to the bear’s under-throat, digging frantically with his four paws at its belly as it rose, then dropping to spit fur and flesh from his mouth before attacking again.

Time after time, bite after bite.  The bear was reduced to lurching, punch-drunk, a widening pool of its own blood soaking the earth under its paws.  Daniel never varied his targets: he sunk his fangs time and again into the same two wounds in the bear's neck, deepening them steadily, wrenching, tearing, gnawing, his eyes and nose clogged with gore, the taste of blood, hot and fresh from his enemy’s heart spurring him on, invigorating him when exhaustion should’ve been slowing him.

Weakening, the bear's hind legs slipped in the bloody mud and Daniel indulged in a victory snarl as he dove for its throat, sure this would end it.  The blood welled sluggishly, the bear's heart thumping slow and sullen with blood-loss, and Daniel locked his jaws tight as a tick, shaking the ragged flesh hard for added measure.

Suddenly the big animal dropped, crushing Daniel under hundreds of pounds of meat, muscle and bone, a stuttering growl vibrating in its ruined throat.  Weakened, but still alive and deadly, the Dark One bore down, immobilizing Daniel, crushing him.

Daniel couldn't even yelp, all sound was swallowed by the tomb of flesh and blood-soaked fur burying him.  He struggled, twisting in panic, unable to breathe, his own throat clogged by the gore he’d worked so hard to bring forth from the bear’s.  Kicking, scrabbling, desperate, bright stars began to spark behind his eyes as he suffocated.

At least…at least Sam would be okay.  The bear hadn’t killed her.  It couldn’t have.  Jack and Teal’c would find her.  The Dark One wouldn’t have the chance to strike again and she would be safe.  She had to be.  Someone that beautiful, that pure couldn’t die…

Suddenly the fleshy coffin enfolding him jerked, stiffening and rolling to one side.  With a precious whiff of fresh air and a burst of panicked energy, Daniel scratched and clawed himself free of the heavy fur-bound prison.  He spat and coughed, sneezing out bear-blood, shaking his whole body to rid himself of the gore and dirt encrusting him.

Blinking his eyes clear, the first thing he saw was a dead bear, a knife protruding from one eye.

The second thing he saw was Samantha Carter collapsed in a heap beside the bear's head, watching him with a dazed and bemused half-smile.

“Good dog,” she said quietly.

Even with his grayish dog-vision, Sam shone in the dingy forest light.  He drank in the sight, content to sit there forever, knowing he’d saved her, knowing she would live on.

Then details niggled at him.  Like the way she held her left arm crooked tight to her chest, the way her pupils had expanded to almost encompass her blue-gray irises, and the way dirty scratches marred one side of her face. 

He ducked his head low, and crawled toward her, as nonthreatening as he could manage.  She simply sat and watched, too shocky, he realized, to properly take things in.  He straightened up beside her, tail wagging on its own at being this close to her again.  He sniffed deeply, relishing her wonderful scent, then got down to business, checking her arm out.  Her BDU jacket sleeve was shredded, her blood still welling from deep gouges the bear’s claws rent in her fair skin.

Daniel voiced a soft whine of sympathy, then slowly and carefully began to lick her wounds, cleaning them in the only way he could.  Sam sucked a breath in, but didn’t protest, gradually relaxing as his warm, gentle tongue lapped away the blood and dirt.

He smelled them coming, so when Jack and Teal’c suddenly burst into the clearing, P-90 and staff weapon at ready, Daniel merely glanced up at them, tail thumping a greeting against the bear’s carcass.

As the two men skidded to a halt in front of the bear, Jack reared back with a theatrical flair worthy of the Suss’risa who’d taken Daniel’s body, shouting, “Whoa!”

Sam gave a small wave with her right hand.  “Hello, sir, Teal’c.”

Daniel returned to his careful clean-up of Sam’s arm.

His gaze darting between Sam and the bloody hulk she sat next to, Jack approached cautiously.  “Hey, Carter.  That’s, uh…” he peered closely at the bear in the dim light, “a big bear.  A big, dead bear.”  He paused.  “It is dead, right?”

“Think so, sir.”

“Yeah, yeah.  The, uh, knife sticking out of its eye is kind of a giveaway.”  He nodded philosophically, his seemingly casual gaze taking in every detail of Sam’s condition.  “So...who’s your friend?”

Sam frowned, tilting her head.  “Friend?”

Jack raised his brows and looked significantly at Daniel.  Daniel broke off his ministrations and faced Jack, tail wagging again.

“Oh.  I don’t know.  The bear--it charged at me out of the woods, and then this dog…it just came out of nowhere.  It--I don’t know why, but it protected me.”

“That was lucky,” Jack remarked softly.  He leaned down and held out his hand, palm flat.  Daniel sniffed obligingly, savoring the uniquely Jack smells: the leather of his black fingerless gloves, the oil he used to prime his P-90, and a faint hint of the Froot Loops he'd eaten for breakfast that morning.  Jack equaled safety to Daniel and he gave the offered fingers a lick without hesitation.

“Hey, there, Lucky,” Jack murmured.  “My name’s Jack.  I see you’ve met Carter, here.”  Jack patted Daniel’s head, then wiped off his now bloody hand with a grimace.

Daniel again returned to Sam’s wound, unable to resist first nosing her shoulder.  She also smelled a bit of gun oil, a bit of burning electrodes from some experiment in her lab, but underneath it all, the legacy of Jolinar: a faint tang of naquadah.  Naquadah meant the Stargate, and to Daniel, that meant adventure.  He gave a brief shiver then patiently began licking the last claw gash clean.

“Ya know, Carter, ol’ Doc Fraiser might have something to say about your little field medic’s methods, here.”

Sam merely glanced at the licking dog, still slow and dazed.

Teal’c, having finished a recon of their perimeter, stepped up behind Jack, remarking, “O’Neill, did you not recently state to Cassandra Fraiser that a dog’s mouth is cleaner than a human’s?”

“Yeah, but it’s probably not Fraiser’s first choice for debriding a wound.  Especially when the mouth was just chewing on a dead bear.”

Jack knelt down in front of Sam.  “Lemme take a look at your pupils, Carter.”  He pulled out his flashlight, muttering, “Where’s the doc’s penlight when you need it?”  He passed the light across Sam’s eyes in turn, then nodded.  “Pupils reacting okay.”  He felt her head, brushing a hand along the scraped right side of her face.  “Can’t feel a lump, so probably no concussion.”

Wishing he could touch Sam with real hands, Daniel watched Jack closely.

Jack raised his brows at the dog.  “Hey, don’t get jealous there, uh…” Jack craned his head down, shining his light between Daniel’s hind legs, “…boy.”

Daniel blinked.  Oh.  It hadn’t occurred to him to check _that_.

"Okay, let's fix you up some kind of a sling, Major."

Sam grimaced.  "Oh, sir, that's really--"

"Completely necessary," Jack sternly finished for her.

Teal'c volunteered his jacket.  Sam slipped her uninjured arm through one sleeve, and Jack rigged the other sleeve around her wrist, securing it, and her arm, snugly to her chest.

“Think you can stand up, Major?”

"Yes, sir."

With Teal'c's help, Sam hauled herself up, then paused for a moment to take a breath.

"Dizzy?" Jack asked.

She shook her head, then winced.  "No, not dizzy, just a headache.  I'm feeling better actually."  She smiled at Teal'c.  "Thanks for the jacket, Teal'c.  I didn't realize how cold I was."

Teal'c nodded gravely and Daniel stepped possessively closer to Sam, once again wishing that he could do more to help her.

"Hey, Lucky," Jack called.  "Come over and meet Teal'c."

“How have you ascertained this animal’s name, O’Neill?”

“Animal intuition, Teal’c.  I’m a dog person.”

Daniel knew that Teal'c, on the other hand, was not a dog person.  The concept of a 'pet' was foreign on Chulak and most other Jaffa worlds.  Not that Teal'c was hostile to dogs, he dutifully interacted with Cassie's dog Rover when she specifically asked him to, he just didn't seem to get the point.

"Let him smell you, T."

Teal'c leaned down to hold out his closed fist, which Daniel obligingly sniffed.  The Jaffa smelled of kel’no’reem candle wax and a kind of electric buzz from his staff weapon, and, although essentially human like Jack and Sam, Teal’c had an exotic alien hint, like an unfamiliar but pleasant spice in a foreign meal.  But...there was something else, something bad.  Daniel froze, staring intently at Teal’c’s belly.  The prim’ta.  Daniel perceived it like a kind of after-image of the dark Suss’risa.  He realized he could actually hear the larva scuttling and squelching in the Jaffa’s pouch, and he longed to rip it out of there and snap it in two between his strong teeth.

Daniel’s ears flattened and his quivering lip curled up from his canines.

Speaking mildly, Teal’c said, “A most perceptive animal.  I believe it perceives the Goa’uld larva within me.”

“Lucky,” Jack said sternly.  “Easy, boy.  Teal’c’s one of the good guys.”

[ ](http://s71.photobucket.com/albums/i121/PattRose1/A%20Dogs%20Life/?action=view&current=page15.jpg)

Daniel knew that tone and stifled the growl rising in his throat.  Dog person or not, Jack wouldn't think twice about putting a bullet into anything that dared threaten his team.

Daniel tried his best to suppress his awareness of the larva and concentrated on Teal’c himself.  He licked the proffered fist, nuzzling it for good measure to show there were no hard feelings about that whole nasty squiggly snake-in-the-belly business.

Teal’c raised a brow.  “It appears I am accepted into its pack.”  He nodded at Daniel with approval.  "An intelligent creature.  And quite deadly," he concluded, with a glance at the bear carcass.

Daniel wagged his tail.  Cool.  It appeared Teal'c had accepted 'Lucky' into his own pack.

"Okay, time to get back," Jack ordered.  "Carter, you're with me.  Teal'c, think you can backtrack us to the path?"

Before Teal'c could answer, Daniel ran back along Sam's scent trail, turning and barking for his teammates to follow after he'd gone a few yards.

The others exchanged a glance, then Jack shrugged.  "Right.  Lucky, you're on point," he said, only half facetiously.  "Teal'c, help Carter.  I'll guard our six in case any other harmless woodland creatures come out to play."

With Daniel and his superior dog-vision leading the way, it wasn't long before they emerged from the forest onto the path exactly where Sam had left it.  Their packs and the rest of their weapons were still there.

Jack and Teal'c made short work of dividing up the weight of the four packs so that each man could carry two.  When Teal'c placed Daniel's pack on his own back, both Daniel and Sam looked away, Daniel with remorse, Sam with worry.  But when Jack swung Sam's pack up to join his own with a belabored grunt, she winced with guilt.

“Sir, I’m sorry," she said.  "I can’t explain my actions…”

“We’ll figure it out later, Major.  For now, we go home.”

“But, Daniel…”

“Let me worry about Daniel.”

She gave a reluctant nod and they all started off down the path for the Stargate.

Yes, Daniel thought with relief.  Sam would go home, out of danger.  General Hammond would be sure to send a team back, but hopefully a negotiating team, not SG-1 with Sam.

Belatedly, Daniel thought to check for the Dark One.  He paused for a moment, licking one of the scratches on his leg, stretching out his other-worldly senses.  The entity was nowhere in sight.  Could it really be gone?  Did it die along with the unfortunate bear it had occupied?

He caught up with the group, trotted alongside Sam, thinking about the fight.  No, a normal dog couldn’t have brought down a normal bear.  But while the fact that Daniel was not a normal animal only helped him, it didn't seem to have done the same for the Dark One.  The creature seemed inexperienced on the physical plane, unable to marry an animal’s instincts and its own experience as Daniel had done with the dog.

There was a brisk little creek running along the foot of the hill.  As the others crossed on stepping stones, Daniel dove right in, straight down to the sandy bottom, rolling and shimmying in the silt for as long as he could hold his breath.  By the time he climbed out and shook the water off, he was clean of the bear’s gore, and his own scrapes were washed out.

Sam sat, resting on a boulder, unwillingly if the sullen glares she directed at her two teammates were any judge.  But her eyes lit up when Daniel trotted over to her.  "Oh, wow.  He's really gorgeous, isn't he?"  She stroked Daniel's face and head admiringly.  "His fur looks like chocolate, and those golden highlights…"

Okay, so it wasn't his real body, but Daniel couldn't help enjoying the feel of her hand, especially if it put a smile on her own gorgeous, if battered, face.

Jack, looking closely at Daniel, said, “He looks like a pit bull mix.”

A pit bull?  Daniel stupidly craned around, trying to see himself.

“A pit bull?” Sam asked, unknowingly echoing Daniel.  "I thought pit bulls were bandy-legged and ugly,” she protested.

“Nah, they’re not ugly.  Petey from the Little Rascals was a pit.  Anyway I think this big guy has something else in the mix too.”

Sam eyed Daniel doubtfully.  “But aren’t pit bulls dangerous?”

Jack chucked.  “Only if they’re mistreated.  Just like everyone else.”  Jack scratched Daniel’s ears.  Then, in a painful-to-listen-to warble, he belted out, “‘Kilt him a bear, when he was only three!  Davy!  Davy Crockett--!’”

Daniel’s ears flattened at the punishing sound, his lip curling up in an automatic snarl.

“O’Neill, this animal may resort to violence to stop you…as may I.”  Teal'c's warning came with a growl of his own.

Blessedly, Jack ceased his caterwauling with a grumble about philistines who didn’t appreciate the Golden Age of TV.

They started up the hill for the Stargate, Sam trudging slower and slower as they went.  When they crested the top, catching sight of the giant naquadah ring, Jack gave an exaggerated groan of relief.  “Finally!  Everybody's happy to see the Gate.  See?  Even Lucky's grinning.”

“I believe the animal is panting,” Teal'c observed.

“That’s a doggy grin, T, get with the program.”

Daniel knew they were keeping the patter up to comfort Sam, who was looking increasingly pale after the climb.

Leaving Teal'c to support Sam, Jack dialed Earth, incidentally disproving his dumb act, not that anyone on SG-1 needed any proof.  Before the final chevron engaged, he hunkered down to hold Daniel, protecting him from the backsplash.  When Daniel made no reaction to the noisy kawoosh, Jack gave him a speculative glance.  “Not surprised, are ya, Lucky?  See that a lot?”

~You have no idea, Jack.~  He let his tongue loll and continued to pant.

As Teal'c entered their iris clearance code, Jack patted Daniel's head.  "Thanks for the help, there, big guy.  You came through for Carter when she really needed a friend."

"Oh, but should we really just leave him?" Sam asked, suddenly querulous.  The shock was catching up with her, and Daniel was thankful that Janet and her crew were waiting on the other side of the wormhole.  "God, I didn't even think to check if he was injured--!"

"Hey," Jack said softly.  "It's okay, Carter, you had a couple other things on your mind.  I looked him over, he's only got a few scratches, he'll be fine."

Sam nodded unhappily, and gave a little wave with her good hand.  "Goodbye, Lucky.  Thank you."

Daniel gave a bark, and continued his 'doggy grinning' as first Teal'c guiding Sam, then Jack stepped through the wormhole.

So that was it.  His job done, Sam safe.  Nothing to do but wait here for 60 days until his body returned...

He took a final peek at the spirit world and glimpsed the Dark One, alive and well, in all its foul glory, diving through the Gate behind Jack, still homed in on Sam.

It just couldn’t be that easy, could it?

Daniel heaved a doggy sigh and dashed through the still open wormhole.


	2. Homecoming

Daniel exited the wormhole to the snap of several rifles, all suddenly zeroed in on his appearance at Jack’s heels.  Jack, who’d been walking toward the cluster of medics surrounding Sam, stopped and raised his hands.

“Whoa.  Don’t shoot.  It’s me.”

“Colonel.”  General Hammond, at the foot of the ramp, looked pointedly at the animal currently giving his panting-doggy-grin all he had.

Jack turned.  “Damn it, Lucky!”

The wormhole cut out at that moment and the Gateroom froze in a silent tableau for a heartbeat: SFs on alert, Jack glowering.  Sam noticed Daniel for the first time and broke out in a surprised smile.  Daniel, very aware of the multitude of weapons aimed at him, sat on his haunches and looked innocently up at Jack.

Expression neutral, Hammond inquired, “Does this animal belong to you, Colonel?”

“No, not really.  He’s Carter’s.”

Hammond frowned, then dismissing the subject, asked, “Where is Dr. Jackson?”

“Ah.”  Jack ran fingers through his hair, pushing his cap off and continuing to walk down off the ramp.  “He’s been kidnapped, sir,” he said bluntly.

“What!?”

Daniel followed Jack closely.  With no further direction, the guards had stood-down, routinely gathering SG-1’s weapons.  Sam, who had been attempting to fend off Janet, blanched at Jack's terse report and, seeing her opponent falter, Janet swooped in to load the injured woman on a gurney.

“Teal’c, stay with Carter," Jack said.  "General, I think a preliminary debrief may be in order.”

“I think so, Colonel.”

Daniel padded to Teal’c’s side as the Jaffa nodded at Jack, trailing the gurney as they left the room.  Jack at least had seen Daniel leave the Gateroom, but the Colonel didn’t raise the alarm.

As the medical detail rolled her down the corridor, Sam stated, "You know, this really isn’t necessary.”

“Of course not,” Janet confirmed smoothly.

“I could walk.”

“Humor me.”

When the group entered the elevator, Daniel slipped under the gurney itself.  Exiting on Level 21, he returned to Teal’c’s side, making sure to keep the large Jaffa between himself and Janet.  In the infirmary, Daniel slunk quietly under the bed at the same moment Sam was shifted off the gurney, her protests that she could move from one bed to another growing more querulous as Janet’s responses grew more stern.

“Lie down, Major.  X-ray will be ready for us in a minute.  For now, let me look you over.”

“It’s just a scratch.”

“Mmm, yes…  Just a five inch long, half inch deep scratch…”

Sam huffed.  “Only one is that bad.”

“You’re right, the others are barely noticeable.  Of course all that purplish-black bruising might have something to do with that.”

Sam huffed again.

“What exactly happened?  Did you fall?”

“Well…”

“Major Carter was the victim of an attack,” Teal’c said.

“Jaffa?” Janet asked.

“Not exactly,” Sam mumbled.

“Not exactly?”  Daniel could hear that the exam had stopped and Janet was probably staring at Sam with those deceptively soft brown eyes.

“It was an animal.”

“Oh my god.  An--an animal did this?”

“It was a bear,” Teal’c supplied helpfully.

“A bear?”

“Yes...” Sam said, a touch defensively.

“Okay.  That explains a few things.”  Then Janet was all business again.  “Did you lose consciousness?”

“I don’t think so.”

There followed a brief medical question and answer, and soon Sam was transferred back to the gurney and wheeled away to x-ray.  Teal’c stepped away too, but Daniel stayed where he was, knowing they would be returning Sam to this same bed.

Sure enough, Sam soon returned, and was cleaned up and changed with the nurses’ help.  When the curtain was drawn back, Teal’c rejoined her and Janet returned.

“Good news, Major.  Nothing's broken.  You have a hairline fracture in your humerus, mid-shaft.  Even more importantly there is no radial nerve injury.  This should shorten your recovery time considerably.”

“A few days?”

“Nice try.  A few weeks rather than a few months.”

"But no surgery?"

"No surgery," Janet confirmed.  "Now quiet down and let me practice my sewing.”

Sam groaned.  “Your sewing!  Don’t forget, you showed me your old Home Ec project.”

“I’ll have you know, that tote bag was sewed up nice and neat.  All four sides.”

His voice puzzled, Teal’c said, “Would not a bag with all four sides closed be useless as a receptacle within which to place--”

“Leave it, Teal’c.  Or your pouch will be next.”

They didn’t speak for a time, only the rustlings of Janet suturing Sam’s gashes.  Then, her voice quiet, Janet asked, “So.  Who’s going to tell me about Daniel?”

After a pause, Teal’c said, “Daniel Jackson was taken away by a group of people to an unknown location.”

[ ](http://s71.photobucket.com/albums/i121/PattRose1/A%20Dogs%20Life/?action=view&current=janettealc.jpg)

Silence.  Then Teal’c continued.  “The Aluants were friendly and the mission to P3S-931 proceeded unremarkably until Daniel Jackson separated from the rest of us.  He hoped to gain insight as to why the Goa'uld had not targeted this mineral-rich planet.  We returned to the temple Daniel Jackson was visiting to find that unknown persons had taken him by force.  We had the choice to retrieve our weapons at that time, but O’Neill decided, rightly I believe, that speed was of the essence.  Unfortunately, we could not catch up to the group before they had gained the Stargate.  Daniel Jackson was unhurt, repeating several times that he would be returned unharmed in time."  The Jaffa's stoic recitation faltered for a moment, then he concluded, his voice strong and confident, "I have faith in his assessment and believe that events will conclude as he has predicted.”

More silence, and Daniel wished he could see the looks the three must have been exchanging.  When Janet finally said, “Sam, I know he’ll be back,” Daniel wondered why she directed her comment specifically to Sam.

Jack breezed in.  “So, Doc, what’s the verdict?  Amputation?”

“Colonel…”

“Oh.  Needle and thread.  It’s worse than I thought.”

“Colonel, would you like to find out how sharp this needle is?”

“Dr. Fraiser says it’s only a fracture, sir," Sam reported, "and I should be up and around again in a few weeks.”

“Yes," Janet said.  "Good job cleaning the Major’s arm up, Colonel.”

“Um, yeah, thanks.  Just check for infection, okay, Doc?”

“We’ve given her the usual round of antibiotics, but there’s no sign of infection so far.”

Once she’d finished, Janet packed up her suturing kit, and left the three SG-1 members alone.

"Sir, what did the priest say?  After he dropped off our gear?"

"Not much.  Just that those off-world bozos cornered Daniel after he'd finished in the temple, cut him off from the Aluants, and hustled him away."

"But why?"

"I don't know, I didn't have a chance to get any details."

 _Because you wandered off._   Everyone listening mentally finished Jack's sentence.

Jack couldn't know it wasn't Sam's fault; regardless, though, Daniel felt an irrational urge to give his friend a bite in retribution.  Jack must have regretted his words too: he shifted his feet, almost squirming where he stood.

Sam's voice was quiet as she said stiffly, "Colonel, my behavior is without excuse--"

"Carter."  There was a long pause.  "Look, I'm not sure what you thought you saw, but I trust you."  Jack put a hand to Sam's good shoulder.  "You're gonna heal and he's gonna come back.  He's a survivor."

Daniel let his chin drop to his paws as he lay under the tall infirmary bed, voicing a soft whine.

"Ah, and here's our other survivor."  Jack squatted down and Daniel’s tail thumped automatically as the man scratched him behind the ears.  “He been here the whole time?”

“He has,” Teal’c said.

“Really?” Sam asked.  “Lucky’s down there?”

“Indeed.  He is a most quiet and well-behaved animal.”

“You okay with him being here, Carter?” Jack asked.

Sam peered over the edge of the bed and Daniel popped up to lick her outstretched hand.  Sam smiled.  “Sure.  I guess he’s not hurting anything."

Jack stood.  “Well, if ol’ Doc Fraiser doesn’t mind...”

Daniel was sure Teal’c was perfectly aware that Janet hadn’t noticed Daniel's presence, but the big man said nothing, merely observing the interaction between woman and dog.  Jack slapped Teal’c on the shoulder.  “C’mon, big guy.  Our turn with the medicos.” As they left, Jack called over his shoulder, "Get some rest, Carter, that's an order."

There was a sigh and an unenthusiastic, "Yes, sir," from the bed and Sam shifted around, getting comfortable.  Daniel settled himself down, too.

Finally, a chance to stop and think.  First order of business: he extended his otherworldly senses, checking for the Dark One.  It was weird, being able to 'see' through layers of concrete and tons of earth, but somehow it made sense on the spiritual level.  He found it surprisingly easy to identify the auras of his close friends and colleagues from among the general mass: Jack and Teal'c of course, but he could see Janet a few dozen yards away, probably in her office completing paperwork, Hammond down on Level 27 in what must be the Control Room speaking to Sergeant Harriman, and above him on Level 18, a large cluster of familiar auras, Nyan and most everyone from the Arch/Anth Department.  He sighed.  Probably discussing Daniel's 'kidnapping,' worried out of their minds.  He would make it up to them, somehow...  But right now he needed to concentrate.

After several minutes, he still couldn't find the hostile Suss'risa.  Oh god, he suddenly thought.  What had he set loose on the Earth?  Had it given up on Sam?  Would it go out on a killing-spree like some kind of astral Jack the Ripper?

His spiritual attention skittered around in a panic, peeking into every trans-dimensional corner...  There!  Pulsing in a little ball, it flittered up above the Mountain, biding its time.  Maybe it didn't like being underground, maybe it was accustoming itself to Earth, whatever, it was still there, still tuned in to Sam on some level.  Despite the danger to Sam, Daniel was relieved no one else was at risk.

He suspected the thing was only here, still chasing Sam, because of Daniel himself.  Daniel's opposition to it was a challenge, and now it wouldn't let its prey go out of obstinate pride.  But if Daniel had not fought it, it would've already consumed Sam back in the forest.  Daniel took a deep breath, centering himself as Teal'c had taught him during kel'no'reem.  He was doing the right thing.  He just needed to stay the course.

Of course, protecting Sam would mean keeping her under some pretty steady observation.  That could get...awkward.  And not in some juvenile peeking-while-she-changes-her-panties kind of way.

He knew about her and Jack.

Although his three teammates and Janet had apparently deemed it necessary to keep him out of the loop during the Zatarc incident, Anise, of all people, had proven a better friend.  She'd told him what had been said in that Isolation Room when Jack had been interrogated.  When, later that awful day, she'd confirmed to him that Jack and Sam were not Zatarcs, he had asked what they had inadvertently lied about.  Her matter-of-fact answer knocked the air right out of his lungs: "There was no lie.  They suppressed revealing the fact of their love for one another."  She’d sniffed with annoyance.  "If I had been informed that they were lovers, I would have accounted for that in my presets for the Zatarc detector."

Now, he chuffed out a weary breath, curling up tighter, paws wedged pads-up under his chin, nose tucked under the end of his tail.  He wasn't sure how he had managed to get through the rest of that day, babysitting the Tok'ra negotiators, placating Pentagon flacks and White House wonks.  And comforting Sam.  She'd had no deep personal feelings for Martouf, but he was beloved of Jolinar and his loss affected her deeply.

It hurt like hell that his four closest friends were colluding to keep him in the dark about something so important to the whole team.  God, Daniel had even joked with Jack about Sam making a pass at the team leader earlier that day.  He could perhaps understand Jack and Sam not wanting to discuss it because of regulations, but for them to convince Teal'c and Janet to also lie to him by omission...

No, he wasn't going to indulge in another bout of self-pity.  The last one had lasted long enough.  It seemed that he'd never fully realized his feelings for Sam until all possibility of a future with her had been abruptly removed.  Even while Shau'ri was still alive and his love for his wife remained solid, he'd nevertheless been falling in love with Sam, slowly, inevitably, a bit at a time.  Every impish grin of mischief, every midnight coffee run, every shared leap of intuition.  Her intelligence, her strength, her beauty.  Despite their differences in appearance, Sam reminded him so much of Shau'ri.  Sam was what Shau'ri might have become if the Fates had smiled upon her.  Shau'ri was lost to him forever, and with Anise's off-hand remark, so was Sam.

But Sam was alive, he remind himself firmly.  She was still his friend, and so was Jack.  He would never come between them.  And despite their apparently poor opinion of his ability to be discrete, he would never betray them.  He wasn't convinced that they were actually 'lovers,' that they had taken that final step, but regardless, 'Lucky' would be giving them their privacy.

***

Dinner that evening was provided by Teal'c.  He brought Sam a tray from the commissary's Infirmary section with a generous selection piled high on several plates.

"Where's the Colonel?" Sam asked around a mouthful of cornbread.

"He is consulting with General Hammond regarding a negotiating team's return to P3S-931."

"Oh."

They ate quietly for a time.  Then Sam asked, "Did you bring something for Lucky?"

"Indeed.  I brought extra chicken and bread.  I witnessed Cassandra Fraiser's dog Rover consuming these very items at O'Neill's last barbecue."

Sam chuckled.  "Yeah, from Janet's plate.  Who knew she could run that fast?"  She and Teal'c took turns feeding Daniel tidbits from their plates, Daniel refusing to let the sheer weirdness of this stop him from eating.  He was hungry.  He didn't think The Bear Blood Diet really did that much for him.

Teal'c left for the night when Visiting Hours were officially over.  Not that official hours usually meant much to SG-1.  Daniel was vaguely surprised Jack had not come back again.  Of course Sam was in no medical danger; she simply needed rest.  Jack wouldn't have bothered if it had been Daniel in that bed.  But Daniel wasn't his girlfriend.  He'd have thought Jack would come by to say goodnight at least.

The Infirmary lights dimmed and Daniel relaxed fully for the first time, sure that between the privacy curtain and the poor lighting, no snoopy nurse would discover him camped out under Sam's bed.  He'd just have to make sure he didn't sneeze, what with all the Infirmary smells magnified to him.

Sam's hand appeared reaching down and Daniel jumped up on his hind legs, fore paws and chin resting on the gurney railing.  Sam grinned at the sight, her hand on his head, stroking him between the eyes with her thumb.  "Goodnight, little boy," she whispered.

Daniel breathed in her exhalation, reveling in the warmth and familiarity.  He snuffed a goodnight of his own, then dropped back down to his post.  Everything was under control for the time being, with the Dark One safely quiescent up above the Mountain.  Of course, Daniel’s love life was equally quiescent, nonexistent in fact, but he absolutely refused to moon about that.

Ah, Sam was asleep now.  Then he back tracked.  How did he know that?  With amazement, he realized that he could actually hear her heartbeat, now that things were quiet and he was so close.  He let the steady, strong, comforting rhythm lull him to sleep.

Later, Daniel woke to the sound of Sam mumbling incoherently, asleep.  When her voice took on an urgent moan, Daniel jumped up to the gurney rail again.  The jolt to the bed woke her and she stared blearily, her eyes wandering.  When she fastened her gaze onto Daniel’s, he let out a quiet little bark that sounded like, "Buhf."  She blinked, then slowly smiled as she came more awake.  "Hey, little boy," she whispered.  With her good hand, she stroked his head, rubbing behind one ear.  He gave her little lick, then dropped back down to the floor, re-settling himself as she did the same on the bed.

The duty nurse came around the curtain, checking Sam's vitals as she asked, "And how are we feeling, Major?"

"Fine," Sam mumbled, already mostly asleep again.  "I'll be okay.  Lucky's here."

"Hmm.  Yes, of course he is," came the distracted reply.

The nurse left them in peace soon enough, however Daniel realized he had a problem.  He had to go.  Now.

He padded quietly over and peeked around the curtain.  No one in sight.  Across the way was one of the small Infirmary bathrooms, its door ajar.  Stepping very carefully, so his nails wouldn't click, Daniel crept over and slipped through the door.  He nudged it closed, making sure it didn't latch.  Not having opposable thumbs sucked.

He nosed the toilet lid up and open, then stood and considered the toilet bowl water.  He was a little thirsty.  Teal'c had let him lap up some water from a cup, but it really hadn't been enough.  Heck with it, he finally decided.  He'd never heard of a dog dying from toilet-water-poisoning.

Once he'd lapped and slurped his fill, he listened at the door for a second.  If anyone saw what he was about to do, they'd know he was no ordinary dog, and heaven knows what they'd do with him.

He stood at the front of the toilet and reared up, placing his paws on the toilet seat, nails skittering until he steadied himself.  Crap, he wasn't high enough.  With difficulty, he reared up as high as he could, just barely managing to reach his paws to rest on the top of the open toilet lid.

He was high enough now, his aim was perfect, his relief was blessed...

Before plopping back down to the floor, he managed to hit the handle, flushing away the evidence.

Quite smug, he padded silently back to Sam's gurney.

***

Waking to the renewed bustle of the Infirmary the next morning, Daniel rose and stretched out, first with forelegs extended and butt high, then reversing the motion, forelegs high, and butt and hind legs flattened out behind him.  He ended with a vigorous shake.  He seemed to be in pretty good shape, just a little sore from yesterday's exertions.

He sniffed at his scrapes.  Most of them were inconsequential, the only significant one being on his shoulder where the bear's claw had caught him at the beginning of their battle.  Instinctively licking, he found it to be a little warm under his tongue, but not feverishly so.  Healing then, but not infected.

The curtain rustled as a nurse came in, asking the usual questions as Sam yawned and mumbled replies.  When Sam asked when she would be released, she was smoothly informed only Dr. Fraiser could answer that particular question.  The nurse helped her to the bathroom, then got her re-situated in the bed just in time for Jack and Teal'c, bearing breakfast, to make their appearance.

"Hey, Carter," Jack said, pulling a rolling table over for the food tray.  "How'd you sleep?"

"Good, sir.  Though I think I had a bad dream at some point."

"What occurred in this dream, Major Carter?" Teal'c asked.  Not being able to dream himself, Teal'c was endlessly fascinated by the dreams of others and was a staunch supporter of the 'science' of 'psychoanalytic dream interpretation.'

"It was the bear attack, I think," Sam said, taking a first sip of coffee.  "But it was more than the bear, somehow.  Bigger, darker..."

Huh.  Maybe Sam's subconscious knew more than she did.

She shook off the memory.  "Anyhow, Lucky woke me up."  Taking this for his cue, Daniel jumped up for an ear rub.  "You rescued me again, didn't ya, boy?"

Jack came over to give Daniel a good scratch in the loose skin under his throat.  Daniel stretched his head up, eyes half closed it felt so good.  "Man of the hour again, huh?" Jack said.  "Work up an appetite?"

It was nice not having to respond to every off-hand thing Jack said, and Daniel just continued to enjoy his 'massage,' knowing that food would be coming.

Jack had thought to bring an extra plate, so at least Daniel was spared the weirdness of eating out of his teammate's hands.  A selection of eggs, bacon and torn up pieces of toast were put on the plate and placed at Daniel's paws.  He dug in, lapping up water from a bowl Jack had also thought to bring.  He looked longingly at the coffee Jack and Sam were drinking, but they were oblivious.  Licking his plate clean, he slowly pushed it under the bed, following it as he did, so when Janet came around the curtain, he was once again out of sight.

"Well, I see your appetite isn't suffering," she said to Sam.  "I don't think I've ever seen so much food consumed in my Infirmary before."

"It wasn't just me," Sam protested.  "Teal'c eats enough for three."

"And Lucky ate more than his fair share."  Jack bent down and retrieved Daniel's licked-clean plate from under the bed, stacking it with the other empties on the tray.

Oops.

There was a long silent pause.

"Lucky?" Janet asked slowly.  "What's lucky?"

"The dog," Jack answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Slowly, Janet leaned over and peered under the bed.  Daniel sat like a friendly sphinx, his wagging tail rhythmically whacking the I.V. pole.

Janet shot up straight, wheeled on Jack, and roared at a truly impressive volume for someone of her stature, “Colonel O’Neill!!”

“What?!  I thought you knew!”

“You thought I knew an alien animal was in my Infirmary?!”

“Teal’c, you told me she knew!”

“I did not, O’Neill, although I can understand how you may have believed so.”

“Teal'c!” Jack shouted.

“Colonel!” Janet shouted.

“Guys, Janet!” Sam called.  “It’s okay.  He was here all yesterday and last night and there’s been no problems.”

The diminutive doctor seemed to swell to twice her normal size with outraged disbelief.  “All night?!  This filthy animal--!  In my antiseptic Infirmary--!”  She sputtered off into incoherence.

Daniel flattened to his belly and crawled out to her little spiked heels.

“Doc,” Jack pleaded, “he’s just a dog.”

“He is not filthy, Dr. Fraiser,” Teal’c added.

“And, Janet,” Sam said, “he saved my life.  He fought a one ton bear for me.  I would’ve been dead in seconds if it wasn’t for him.”  She looked down at Daniel and he took his cue to lay his chin on the tips of Janet’s pumps, blinking his big brown doggy eyes up at her, wagging his tail tentatively.

Janet pursed her lips.

“He didn’t get in anyone’s way or disrupt anything," Sam wheedled.

"He really loves your Infirmary food,” Jack observed brightly.

“Lucky has been of great comfort to Major Carter," Teal'c stated as if this settled the matter.

And apparently it did.  Janet’s expression softened and Daniel took the chance to squirm a little closer, nosing the nylon-clad arch of her foot.  Unable to stop a smile, Janet said, “He is kind of cute…”

“He’s gorgeous, doc.”  Jack ruffled Daniel’s ears and Daniel dared to lick a quick swipe straight up Janet’s ankle.

[ ](http://s71.photobucket.com/albums/i121/PattRose1/A%20Dogs%20Life/?action=view&current=gangandlucky.jpg)

Janet jumped back with an undignified giggle.  “All right," she relented.  "You’re off the hook for last night, but I don’t want him in here any longer, gorgeous or not.”  When Jack began to protest, she raised a hand.  “I think the Major can be discharged to her base quarters where she and SG-1 can entertain as many non-regulation visitors as it wishes, as long as my staff can monitor her condition.”

“That’ll be great, Janet, thank you,” Sam said.

As Sam patted Daniel’s head, Janet’s eyes suddenly narrowed.  “Colonel, where exactly did this animal--”

“Lucky.”

“Where did Lucky do his business?”

Jack blinked.  “Oh, well, he--  Uh, I’m sure…”  It was an indication of how stressed Jack must’ve been between Daniel’s apparent kidnapping and Sam’s injury that this little detail left him speechless in confusion.

Then Jack and Janet locked gazes, and both leaned down in trepidation to peer under Sam’s bed.

“He did not!” Sam maintained staunchly.  “I would’ve noticed.”

After a brief survey, Colonel and Doctor straightened up, sighing in relief.

“No, he didn’t,” Jack confirmed, “but where…?”  Jack looked blankly around the Infirmary, paying particular attention to the corners.

“Colonel, if I find a little surprise waiting for me somewhere--”

“Doc, I’ll look the whole place over myself,” Jack promised.  “I’m sure he didn’t.  I just...don’t know where he _did_...”  Intense fondness for his team leader swept over Daniel and when he nudged himself against Jack’s legs, Jack stroked his face double-handed.  “You’re a resourceful little guy, aren’t ya?”

"For now, Colonel, please, just...remove him."

"No problemo.  I'll take him out for a pit stop."  He patted his leg.  "C'mon, Lucky!  No more using the Doc's Infirmary for a litter box!"

As Daniel followed Jack out the door, he heard Teal'c say to Janet, "Dr. Fraiser, is it not true that fresh urine is sterile?"

The glare Janet aimed up at Teal'c should have fried Junior in its pouch.

***

Daniel refused.

He and Jack were up top, Jack holding him with a makeshift leash that Sergeant Siler had MacGyvered out of some nylon cord.  Jack was expecting 'Lucky' to do his duty right there on the ground out in the open and, well, it so wasn't happening.

He had to consider the future.  This was all going to be over in a couple months and Jack would never let Daniel live it down when he eventually realized he'd held his best friend at the end of a leash while said best friend pooped.

Nope, Daniel refused.  He strained at the end of the leash, he whined, he gazed up at Jack, batting his big brown eyes while the man first ordered, then begged him to do his business.

Jack eventually sighed, "Damn it, Lucky," and squatted down to look the dog in the eyes, holding up the cautionary finger Daniel was very well acquainted with in his true incarnation.  "Okay, dog, I will let you off-leash, but if you run away I will find you."

~Just running far enough to get a little privacy, Jack.~

"And when I find you, I will shoot you."

~If I had a dollar for every time you've told me that...~

"Do you know what a zat is, Lucky?"

~Yes, I do, Jack.~

"Well, you'll find out if you run away from me."

~I said I know, Jack, now let me go.~  He stretched his fore legs out, ducking down in a playful posture and barking.  Jack sighed again.  “I’m a sucker for play-bows,” he muttered, and untied the leash.  Daniel gave another cheerful bark and dashed off into the underbrush.

After he'd done his business, and buried it very neatly, thank you very much, he found he didn't really want to go back down underground.  He checked on the Dark One: it was still sulking, or regrouping, or sleeping, or whatever it was doing, up in the sky.  In short, it was no threat at the moment, and Daniel...Daniel felt like...playing.

He never played.  He felt like he hadn't really played since he was eight years old, before his parents died.  Sometimes Jack 'ordered' him to play, maybe baseball at an SGC picnic or a game of tag with Cassie and SG-1, and Daniel went along with it with only token arguments meant to keep Jack on his toes.  But there was always a team-building aspect to those kinds of games that also made it work.

Right now, he simply wanted to play.  So he did.

On his way back to Jack, he made a deliberate detour straight through a muddy late-springtime puddle.  Under cover of a screen of bushes, he approached Jack's position.  Jack stood there, fiddling with the cord leash.  Daniel waited.  Just as Jack straightened up, looked around and began to shout, "Luck--!", Daniel dashed straight at the team leader, jumped up to plant muddy fore-paws on his shirt, and gave him a messy lick on the mouth and nose.

"Bleah!  Lucky--!"

Daniel dashed off again, hoping to lead the unsuspecting Jack straight into the puddle.  The military man was too canny for that; he was not, however, canny enough to catch the dashing dog, and Daniel led the sometimes laughing, sometimes cursing man on a long chase.

As Daniel crouched behind a rotted log he heard the snap of a cell phone opening.  "Harriman, this is O'Neill.  Get me Teal'c.  ...  Teal'c, I need backup.  Now.  I'm just outside the main entrance.  ...  No, your staff weapon's not necessary, just get out here."

Spoilsport.  Even with two of them, though, it was a good half hour before they caught him.  Partly because he could hear them making their fancy little military plans ('flanking movement' this, and 'draw enemy fire' that), and partly because he could smell them coming.

Eventually, however, he got sloppy and Teal'c crashed out from behind a large pine just as Jack cut him off from the side.  They must have gone downwind so he couldn't smell them.  He didn't mind.  He kept leaping and licking at Jack even as the man wrangled the leash over his head.  He hadn't heard Jack laugh so hard in awhile and he figured it was the least he could do to get Jack's mind off 'Daniel's kidnapping.'

When they arrived on Level 25 and entered Sam's quarters, she stared at them in alarm.  "Sir, what on earth happened to you?"

"What?  Nothing, why?"

"You're covered in mud and there's leaves in your hair."  She plucked one out, holding it up in demonstration.

Daniel gave an enthusiastic bark.  He was quite proud of how muddy he'd gotten his two teammates.

Jack nonchalantly brushed at the drying mud and dog slobber on his clothes, making a mess on Sam's floor.  "Covered is an exaggeration..."

"No, Colonel, it's not," came a stern voice from behind them.  General Hammond stood in the open doorway and he did not look particularly pleased.  “Colonel, I believe you told me last night that this animal was contained.”

“He was.”

“Dr. Fraiser tells me differently this morning.”

“A slight misunderstanding, sir.  But he was contained.”

“Have any tests been performed on it?  For all we know it may contain a Goa'uld."”

“But, sir,” Sam protested.  “He couldn't.  Teal'c and I would sense it.”

“Nevertheless, I want at least a blood test performed.”

“I'll get right on it, General,” Jack said.

“It may be host to more prosaic organisms.  Does it have fleas?”

“Sir, I swear, he's cleaner than I am,” Jack declared.

Hammond merely raised an unimpressed brow.

“What's a few fleas, anyhow?” Jack asked.

“Colonel, you're not helping your cause.  Does the Black Plague ring any bells?”

“Oh.”

Teal’c said, “I have read that rats carried the Bubonic Plague to Europe.”

“No, Teal'c,” Sam said.  “It was actually the fleas infesting the rats that were the disease vectors.  But, General, I really don't think Lucky has any.  I'm very sensitive to flea bites; I welt up.  I've been next to him for more than 24 hours now and I've gotten no bites.  I think we're okay on that score.”

“Very well.  Now as for its disposition--”

“SG-1 will take responsibility for him, sir,” Jack immediately said.

Hammond eyed Jack's disheveled appearance.  "You appear to be having trouble."

"I initiated a game of fetch, sir.  And we ended up rolling around a little.  No problem.  He's just a regular dog."

Daniel did his part, sitting quietly and obediently at Jack's heels, trying to project an air of utter normality and trustworthiness.  He didn't think the crawling-and-licking show that worked so well on Janet would work on the General.  He didn't want to do anything out of the ordinary or draw any special attention to himself.

Hammond eyed SG-1 for a moment longer.  Jack stood projecting an air of sublime confidence that walking around covered in muddy paw prints was just part of the regular job at the SGC.  Teal'c gazed with a stoic blandness that dared anyone to point out his own muddy prints: the two carefully placed ones that adorned his rear end and had caused Jack great amusement outside.  Sam surreptitiously dropped her hand, hiding the muddy leaf she still held behind her back.

The General finally said.  "Very well, carry on SG-1."  It was possible that his expression as he turned away was a smile.  It was also possible it was a grimace.  The entirety of SG-1 played it safe and let him leave without further provocation.

When Teal'c judiciously closed the door behind the General, Jack frowned at Daniel.  "You're a lot of trouble, you know that?"

"Why is Lucky so clean while you guys are so dirty?" Sam asked, the diplomacy she used with the General notably missing.

"We stopped at the Motor Pool to hose him off.  Oy.  I should've hosed myself off."  Jack leaned over and scrubbed the leaves out of his hair.

There was a knock at the door and Janet herself came in to draw blood from SG-1’s dog.  The doctor was afraid 'Lucky' would over-react and she didn't want any of her people in danger.  Daniel let Sam hold him, not having to fake a fearful little whine when the needle went in.  It felt worse somehow in this smaller body.  And when Sam praised him for his bravery afterwards, he couldn't help taking her just a little bit seriously.

Sam insisted that Janet look over Daniel's cuts and scratches, smearing on some topical antibiotic.  Janet proclaimed it unnecessary, and Daniel privately agreed with her.  If he didn't have an infection by now, he probably wasn't going to get one.  Regardless of who was inhabiting the dog's and the bear's bodies, they were both from that same planet and probably immune to the local microbes.

The rest of the day passed easily.  Normally Jack had a hard time of it, trying to keep either of his two Science Twins from working when they were on medical leave.  Not so this time.  The team whiled the day away playing.  Sam didn't mention her laptop once.  Jack got a basketball and they actually spent two hours playing with it; Daniel couldn't believe it, that two hours could be spent on something so simple.  They rolled it from one person to another, Daniel pretending to not understand, getting a kick out of Teal'c's patiently repeated instructions ("Lucky, please roll the ball along to the next person in the circle.  ...  That is not correct.  Please try again."); they played Keep Away; they encouraged Daniel to nose the ball around; to try and gnaw it (impossible, of course, as it was way too big for his mouth).

When the basketball got old, Jack dug up a tennis ball, tossing it against a wall, thankfully without the accompaniment of the infamous ‘Row, Row, Row Your Boat.’  The object of the game was to keep the ball away from the leaping, snapping dog.  When Daniel managed to catch it every few turns, his teammates laughed and praised him.  He found he liked to chew the ball, but eventually he let them ‘teach’ him to drop it when asked.

Periodically during their game play, Sam would seem to look inward, her expression sobering.  Daniel would promptly clump up to her, nudging her with his hard skull, dropping a slobbery ball in her lap, and she would have no choice but to smile and come back to life.

In the late afternoon, Jack insisted Sam take a rest, so her two male teammates left her, at least her two humanoid male teammates.  Sam dropped right off to sleep in her bed, Daniel curling up on the floor at the foot of the bed.  When he woke before her he found he was thirsty.  Jack had mentioned getting a bowl for water to keep in the quarters, but he hadn't brought it yet, so Daniel went into the bathroom. 

After drinking his fill, Daniel caught sight of himself in the full-length mirror behind the door.  A chocolate-brown dog looked back, a splash of white fur centered on his lower chest.  His stocky body stood low to the ground, the wide muscular chest bracketed by sturdy forelegs, his back sloping down to narrow hips and shorter hind quarters, his tail a pencil-thin curve.  A thick neck supported his rectangular head, expressive eyebrows twitching with every move.  Above it all, triangular ears rose up alertly, folding over at the peak.

Looking deep into his golden-honey colored eyes, Daniel wondered if the dog was still 'there.'  Had he displaced it as the Suss'risa had Daniel himself?  Or was the dog's spirit still somewhere inside, just shunted aside?  Somehow he didn't doubt the dog had a 'soul' or 'spirit,' but he wasn't sure which scenario would be worse for it.  Was he suppressing his 'host' the way a Goa'uld did?  Or was the dog's spirit floating around somewhere, fearful and confused?  He tried looking in the mirror with his spirit-vision, to see if there were two souls in this body, but the talent didn't lend itself to such cheap parlor tricks.  Regardless, he somehow had the feeling the dog was with him.

Daniel didn’t waste time feeling guilty.  It hadn't been his own decision to put himself in here, suppressing the dog; and besides he had a feeling any creature as warm and loyal as this animal wouldn't think twice about sacrificing itself for any human, especially Sam.  He'd already begun to think of the 'instinct' parts of his new persona as belonging to 'Lucky.'  He felt like he had a willing ally in the dog, on some level.  He looked deep in brown eyes.  ~We'll save her together, huh, Lucky?~

After a quiet team dinner in her quarters that night, Sam and Jack set a pillow and a couple blankets on the floor at the foot of Sam's bed, and, after Sam took him for a final pit stop, he settled down for a comfortable night.

***

Although Janet would’ve preferred total rest for her patient, the CMO bowed to the inevitable and reluctantly allowed Sam back on limited duty.  Neither Sam nor Daniel seemed to make a conscious choice: after breakfast and a walk, Daniel simply followed her to her lab on Level 19 and curled up against a wall out of the way.

He found himself very popular.  There was a constant stream of people coming into Sam's office all day, to commiserate over both the loss of Daniel and her own injury.  Daniel was surprised and pleased by how many of his Anth/Arch people felt comfortable coming and talking to Sam.  And of course, everyone wanted to hear about the bear fight and pet Lucky, the Alien Wonder-Dog.

It was weird, though, being so low to ground, forced to look up at everyone: staring at people's knees and thighs was getting a little old.  He liked it when they crouched down.  Almost everyone did.  How could they resist him?  He tail-wagged up a storm, charming even the people who claimed they didn't particularly like dogs.  Sgt. Siler was especially fun, taking Daniel out and rolling a tennis ball down the corridor for him to chase.

The only person who didn't warm to him was Nyan.  The Bedrosian native unfortunately associated dogs with the vicious military police of his former nation, and Daniel was sorry to see him keep a cautious distance.  Daniel didn't push him, just stayed as non-threatening as possible.

Another weird thing Daniel noticed, though: he found that simply _seeing_ someone wasn't really enough to make him positive of their identity.  He needed people to come up close so he could sniff, and preferably lick, them, before he could be absolutely sure of who they were.  It seemed dogs relied on their noses more than their eyes, which made sense, he supposed.  Daniel had a feeling he was employing his eyes a lot more than a regular dog would.

It was kind of disturbing how easy he found it to fall into the role of a dog.  His body had so much energy.  When someone new came into the room, he didn't fake the tail wagging and wanting to sniff and lick; he really did want to meet them, and meeting them as a dog was the only option at the moment.  His canine instinct was to like all people and that was not far at all from his true character as a human.  He always loved to interact with people, this was just a new way to do it.  And he didn't fake needing an escort through the hallways: the colors of the floor striping were all off for him now and the signs telling him which level he was on were no longer at eye-level.

A basic pattern formed over the next few days, as Sam eased back into her duties, slowly regaining the use of her arm.  When he wasn't drowsing at Sam's feet in her lab, he was even more successful than Jack at rousting Sam away from her work: taking him up top for pit stops and to the commissary to feed him forced her to get some exercise and food for herself.  On those occasions that no one from SG-1 was available for a walk, Daniel found himself a favorite of people going up top for cigarette breaks, finally giving those social pariahs a good excuse for the time away from work. 

The downside of time away from his team, however, was overhearing snatches of gossip.  Everyone seemed honestly distressed that 'Daniel' was missing, which was reassuring on a personal level, but quite a few people felt the need to state how nice it was that O'Neill and Carter could 'comfort' each other at his loss.  On the other hand, an equal number maintained that Carter received no comfort and was in fact grieving for her missing boyfriend, Daniel.  A nice fantasy as far as Daniel was concerned, but so far off the mark it wasn't even funny.  Also not funny were the significant few who insisted it was O'Neill who was the grieving one, missing _his_ boyfriend.  One or two mentioned Teal'c, but Daniel fled into the underbrush before he had to hear that particular permutation.

Mealtimes didn't change, he was still eating table scraps at the commissary.  A couple people tried to tempt him with store-bought dog food, but Daniel turned up his nose.  The canned stuff didn't really taste awful, but it just wasn't as good as the meatloaf and potatoes Jack piled up for him.

The only thing that surprised Daniel during those days was how little time Jack spent with Sam.  Their military comportment was impeccable even when they thought themselves to be completely alone, and the scenario he dreaded, stuck in Sam's single-room quarters with two amorous teammates, never came true.  In the end he reasoned they had to keep appearances up while Sam was stuck on base and just thanked his lucky stars.

***

One morning in the Infirmary, Jack kept 'Lucky' occupied, bouncing a tennis ball, while Sam had what she hoped was her final checkup on the progress of her healing arm.  They had made a deal with Janet that the dog could stay in the entry area as long as he didn't make a fuss.

Janet came out of the examination area smiling.  "It looks like the Major's healing ahead of schedule, Colonel."

They both chuckled as if sharing a joke.

“Lucky's doing my job for me," Jack said, giving Daniel an enthusiastic ear scratching.  "‘Distraction’ is your middle name, huh, boy?”

"I'm sure she'd have worked herself sick at this point," Janet said.  "But I'm watching you too, Colonel.  And Teal’c.  I know how helpless all three of you must feel.”

Ah.  They were talking about Daniel's ‘absence.’

Janet continued, “Don't think I haven't noticed you've been staying on base too.”

Of course Jack would want to stay near his...girlfriend.  That term sounded pedestrian applied to the two of them, but must be descriptive enough.  And, dear god, better than Anise’s choice of ‘lover.’

Jack shrugged.  "A good CO takes care of his people.  And she needs a friend to see her through this."  He looked embarrassed to have uttered such an emotional sentence, but Janet smiled and patted his shoulder.

Huh?  Daniel puzzled over this exchange.  'See her through...'  Yes, a missing teammate was a serious concern, but if anyone, Jack should be the most upset, being team leader.

Just then Sam came out of the exam alcove, flexing her sling-free left arm with a pleased smile.  "Hey, sir.  Did Janet tell you?  I'm as good as healed."

Janet rolled her eyes.  "Not my exact words, Major..."

Daniel found himself greeting Sam the way he always did when she'd been out of his sight for more than 90 seconds: jumping up repeatedly to lick at her chin and generally prancing around like a crazy thing.  "Hey, goofball," she said him with a laugh, patting his head with her good hand.

"Feel healed enough to sit in on SG-9's debrief?" Jack asked.

Her smile disintegrated, but she answered steadily, "Yes, sir, wouldn't miss it."

SG-9 was the negotiating team who had been sent back to P3S-931 to talk to High Priest Isedore and the Aluants.

When they arrived at the briefing room, Teal'c was already there.  Daniel drew some curious looks from SG-9 and a raised brow from General Hammond as he padded in at Sam's heels, but no one objected and he settled himself quietly down at the side of her chair.

The briefing went on for some time.  However, not much was accomplished; not at all surprising to Daniel, but disappointing to the rest of SG-1.  Major Kovachek and his team had nothing substantial to add to the basic information Jack had already gotten from Isedore.  The Priest still maintained the kidnapping party consisted of basically trustworthy people, if very impulsive.

At one point Sam asked, "What about the research Daniel was doing regarding the lack of a Goa'uld presence on the planet?"

Uh oh.  No, no, Daniel didn't want anyone else poking into that and accidentally getting themselves kicked out of their bodies.

"We asked Isedore," Kovachek said.  "He didn't think it had anything to do with the abduction.  He said he wasn't sure what conclusions Dr. Jackson may have reached, but advised we wait and talk to the Doctor himself when he gets back."

"Yes," the General agreed.  "Until we recover Dr. Jackson, any further research on that line of inquiry is secondary."

Whew.  Score one for Isedore, discouraging anyone else from making Daniel's mistake.

"We talked to as many people as we could," Kovachek continued.  "People on the streets, anyone, to get a general overview of their culture.  They all agreed visitors through the Stargate are welcome, even encouraged to stay.  But they never ask questions or vet them in any way."

"They seem to be an incredibly trusting people," Lt. Girmay, the team's anthropologist, added.  "Something to do with pleasing the spirits they believe rule their world, the, uh..."  She consulted her notes.  "The Suss'risa."

Kovachek spread his hands.  "Long story short, the people who snatched Dr. Jackson looked familiar to most of the people who saw them, but no one could say what their names were or where they came from."

There was silence around the table and Daniel's sensitive ears could hear Sam's heartbeat pounding.  He shifted, resting his chin on her foot.

Teal'c, his voice grave, said, "We must trust in the confidence of the priest Isedore and Daniel Jackson himself that he would return unharmed."

Again there was silence until Jack leaned back from the table.  "Yeah," he said shortly.  "We'll do that."  Daniel could read his anger, but knew it wasn't directed at anyone at the table.  "Thanks, Major," he said to Kovachek.

Kovachek nodded, clearly wishing he could have done more.

Hammond said, "Anything more, people?"  No one replied.  "Very well.  Dr. Jackson did not have a GDO, and even if he did, its codes would be locked out of the system.  Therefore, I will have a team return to the planet every three days to check in and see if the Doctor has returned."

After the General's dismissal, SG-1 remained sitting until Jack rose and nudged Sam.  "C'mon, let's go play fetch."

Up top, in the sunlight and fresh air, it took several muddy, filthy sticks plopped in Sam's lap, but 'Lucky' and her teammates managed to restore Sam's good spirits.

***

The next day Daniel had his only bad experience with any of the SGC personnel.  And it wasn't really Lt. Graham Simmons' fault.  Well, it was, but not consciously.

Daniel and Sam, coming back from a walk, met the Lieutenant in a hallway, and Graham greeted Sam, saying, “Major, you're looking good.”  Then the young man blushed furiously.  “I mean, you’re looking well!  I mean your arm looks good--it’s healing!"

The Lieutenant's crush on Sam was well known and Daniel could smell his nervousness.  However, he also smelled an elevated heart rate and excitement.  Oh, yuck.  There was only one reason for so much excitement on the lovestruck young man's part.  Daniel had never blamed him his crush, but right now with the insight from his dog's nose, he found himself excessively irritated.  Hackles rising, his deep growl cut the stammering Lieutenant off.

There was a sudden, stinging swat to his rump and his growl ended with a yelp.  Sam leaned over, her finger raised.  “Bad dog!  No growling!  You do not growl at anyone here, for any reason, at anytime!”

Daniel cringed, tail between his legs, peeking up at her.

“Understand, Lucky?”

He ducked his head lower with a whine of remorse.

“Sorry, Lieutenant,” Sam said.  “I’m not sure why he did that.  He’s never growled at anyone before.”

“Um, that’s okay, ma'am,” the young man said, edging away.

Humph.  Well, if it got rid of him, the smack was worth it.

***

Jack still took time for a romp with 'Lucky' a least once a day, and today’s ramble was a good long one.  On the elevator trip back down into the Mountain, Daniel considered the talk he'd been overhearing: Sam’s on-base recuperation was complete. She was to be released and take off the rest of the day to get her house in order after her long absence.  He wondered how he could convince her to take him along, or would she just take him automatically?  The Dark One hadn't made any moves yet, but it may have been waiting for Sam to leave the Mountain and go off on her own.

He wasn't paying much attention, so he was surprised when the elevator stopped several floors early and Jack got out.

"Hey, buddy, let's get off at ol' Level 16, huh?"

~Right Jack, like I have any choice.~  What was on Level 16 anyhow?  The base's secondary command bunker?  Was Sam working on that?  It seemed unlikely.  But what else was there on that level except...

Jack led the way to the base Stockade and directly into a holding cell.

"C'mon, big guy, Carter's gone home, this is where you'll be staying."

What?  Oh, god, they were going to lock him up!  They were going to lock him up here, then probably dump him in an Animal Shelter somewhere, never to return to '931.  His body would be forfeit.  Meanwhile, Sam would be easy pickings for the Dark One.

Jack gestured around the little cell that Daniel remembered from several uncomfortable incidents in the past as if it were a grand palace.  "Whatdya think, Lucky?  All the kibble you can eat and all the water you can drink from your very own luxury en-suite toilet bowl."

Daniel thumped down on his haunches, threw his head back and howled.


	3. Adjustments

Sam rolled her grocery cart down the pet aisle, looking almost guiltily at the food, toys and accessories for sale there.  She shouldn't be in this aisle.  She hadn't been home yet, but she knew she should be concentrating on replenishing the now toxic perishables presumably residing in her fridge.  She certainly shouldn't be thinking of buying stuff for Lucky.  He wasn't really her dog and never could be.  She didn't do dogs.  She did motorcycles and naquadah reactors.

And yet...

She'd only had him for a few days but she'd already grown so attached.  Daniel's absence was like a bleeding hole in her heart and the dog's presence helped to, well, not fill it, certainly not, but at least distract from it, soften the ragged edges.  The thought of her empty house, cold and silent...

Lifeless...

God, where was Daniel right now?  He had to be okay, he promised he would be, Isedore promised.

At the thought, her hand was out and reaching automatically, instinctively searching for warm fur to stroke, the reassuring thump of a solid heartbeat.

She gripped the cart handle.  There were no liquid brown eyes to take comfort in here.  She was an Air Force Major, for god’s sake, she didn’t need a crutch to get her through this, she never had before.

Sam forged on through the store, tossing random food in the cart, trying to ignore the irrational wish for the loyal presence of a dog against her leg as she walked and the clip-clopping of nails on linoleum.

She was loading her bags in the trunk when her cell phone went off.  “Hello?” she answered, not bothering to check caller ID.

"Hey, Carter, how ya doin'?"

There was a strident howl in the background and Sam said, "Colonel!  Is that the alarm?  Is there an emergency?"

"Ah, no.  Not an emergency.  Not as such..."

The alarm warbled, howling away, and Sam suddenly realized that's just what it was: howling.  "Oh my.  Lucky?"

"Yeah.  Lucky.  He's, um, just a tad upset that you're gone..."

"I'll be right there."  She was in the car, starting it up.

"You sure Carter?  You've got a lot on your plate right now."

“See you soon, sir,” she said, pulling out into traffic and flipping the phone shut.

The Colonel knew exactly why she was so emotionally fragile right now, though he would never call her on it.  Sometimes she thought she really didn't deserve a C.O. like Jack O'Neill.  He was old school Special Ops, yet he knew exactly how important the sciences were to Stargate Command, despite his occasionally exaggerated shows of resistance.  “What's with the 'worm thing' in the wormholes?”  Please.  Sam was embarrassed to admit that the dense routine had fooled her a couple times at the beginning.  But she had caught on to him soon enough.  She even had a little crush on him for a while.

The crush had cooled, as such things do when the people involved are simply not right for each other.  It was pretty much dead on its own, but a stake had been driven through its heart with the Zatarc incident.

Sam wasn't sure whether Anise’s Zatarc Detector had picked up on their old crush, or whether it simply read the strong feelings _all_ the members of SG-1 felt for one another, but it was enough to shock both Sam and Jack into backing off completely.  She only thanked god it was Teal'c and Janet in that Isolation Room, and not Daniel.  Janet already knew about the failed infatuation.  And Teal’c trusted them completely when she and Jack explained to him later that there was nothing between them.

But Daniel…  He would've jumped to entirely the wrong conclusion, one she didn't want him to even consider, because while her infatuation with the Colonel had faded, her attraction to Daniel had only grown.

Of course she was physically attracted to Daniel from the first.  She had a pulse, after all.  But as Shau'ri had so eloquently demonstrated that fateful day on Abydos, Daniel was quite definitely and quite happily married.  So Sam had tried to put that thought out of her mind, tried to become the helpful big sister Daniel needed.  Tried to put the idea of romance out of her mind.  The idea of love...

A memory of Daniel flashed in Sam's mind, contempt filling his usually compassionate face, his fever-bright eyes boring into hers.  "You’ve never really known what love is have you?"  She winced, biting her lip as she waited on a red light.  There was a reason Daniel's harsh words while on his sarcophagus high had cut so deep.  They were true.  She had never truly loved anyone, not romantically.  Even as Daniel later stammered through apology and after apology, they both knew he had been right.

Jonas Hanson had been a project, not a lover.  There had been no one else, not really.  Flirtations, possibilities, but no lasting relationship.  Of course a lot of them seemed to die...  She gave a rueful grimace as she turned onto the road to the Mountain.  That was a separate issue.  She hoped.

Yes, she sure knew how to pick 'em.  Daniel was the quintessential unobtainable man.  Even more so than the Colonel, Daniel had walls, walls upon walls, sturdy and unassailable, keeping out those who would harm him, keeping in the hurt.

Would she have him tear down his walls and take a risk on her?  When she herself was so unsure?

Daniel would never have understood the words spoken in that Isolation Room.  He would’ve pegged Sam and Jack as ‘in love,’ and backed off.  Never thinking of his own need for friendship, he would’ve distanced himself from his two teammates in the misguided idea that they needed room to pursue a relationship.

In fact, she thought suddenly, it almost seemed as if he had done just that these past few months.  He never joined in on team-nights unless Teal’c was there, never suggested outings with just Sam alone as he used to in the beginning.  And she in turn was nervous about inviting him out; she didn't want to risk burdening him with her needs and desires.  It had been almost two years, but she knew he was still mourning Shau'ri.  He didn't need Sam’s confused emotions complicating his already dangerous life.

So whatever the reason, maybe this distance was a good thing.  Maybe.  It was more practical, safer, easier for everyone.

Regardless, Sam just couldn't bring herself to close that door.

As she parked at the Mountain and made her way through Security, she promised herself she would make more of an effort once Daniel came back.  She would be what he needed: a good friend and nothing more.

Sam heard the howling as soon as she got off the elevator on Level 16.  Poor Lucky.  If she was honest with herself, she had to admit she missed him as much as he apparently missed her.  They had discussed what to do with him when Sam was cleared to return home.  He hadn't said anything right out, but is was obvious that Jack thought she should take the dog home.  She hadn't, because, really, what did she know about dogs?

The warbling howl was much louder as she got to the Stockade lobby and the SFs stationed there greeted her with unfeigned relief.  Jack stood outside the cell door, a wall-phone to one ear, a finger in the other.

“Yes, General!” he said into the phone, shouting to be heard.  “She’s here!  It’s all under control!  No problem!”

In the cell, the concrete walls amplified the eerie yowl to hair-raising volume and Sam paused, wincing, in the doorway.  Lucky sat with his head flung back like an iconic wolf, various offerings spread out on floor around him.  Kibble, chew toys, tug ropes, balls, even an honest-to-god steak on a plate from the commissary.  It seemed nothing could distract him.

"Lucky!” she shouted.  “Stop that immediately!"

The dog cut off in mid-howl.  Blinking, he lowered his head, giving an exhausted whimper.

Her stern resolved melted into a puddle as big and liquid as the brown eyes that stared at her with sad accusation.

"Aw, little boy..."  She knelt and Lucky crowded into her arms, his hot, snuffling snout and wet, chilly nose pressed against her neck.  "Ay!  Lucky!  Stop, that tickles!"  She tried to pull back, thumping the dog on the flank.  He responded by pushing against her harder.  She plopped down on her butt and the dog went crazy with joy, jumping into her lap and attacking her face with big sloppy licks.  She dissolved into giggles, futilely twisting her head as she gasped for breath.  "Lucky!  Ah!  Damn it!  Sir, a little help!?"

Jack stood behind her, his arms crossed with satisfaction.  "Oh, I think you two are doing a good job having fun all on your own."

She managed to climb to her feet, wiping her face on her sleeve.  "Why on earth I thought I could actually wear a little makeup for once..."  As the dog cavorted around her, she looked apologetically at Jack.  "Sir, I guessed he missed me, and, well, I missed him too.  The General already gave clearance for him to mix in the general population..."

"Carter, you don't have to sell me on it.  I only suggested keeping him here in case you really didn't want him.  And don't worry, my offer to pull doo-doo duty still stands."

"I'll hold you to it, sir."

On the way out of the cell, Jack picked up the steak from the plate on the floor and took a big bite.  “What?” he said in response to Sam’s look.  “Lucky didn't want it."

[ ](http://s71.photobucket.com/albums/i121/PattRose1/A%20Dogs%20Life/?action=view&current=p36.jpg)

  
***

An hour later found the three of them pulling into the parking lot at the Happy Pets Veterinary Clinic.  Sam had followed the Colonel's truck with her own car, the little Volvo two-seater feeling very small with Lucky panting away in the passenger seat.  Sam had entered the car first, the alien dog jumping in promptly when he saw her and got the idea.  Now, she gripped his rope leash and met Jack at the clinic's door.

"Colonel, are you sure we shouldn't have made an appointment first?"

"Nah.  Henry Gore's a ‘vet vet,’" Jack explained with typical obtuseness.  "He's ex-Air Force.  Always has time for an old buddy."

Entering the waiting room was like entering an alien culture and Sam once again wished Daniel was around to help her interpret.  The walls were crowded with cheerful, colorful posters, Sam registering only a few: "To Err is Human, To Forgive Canine"  "Dogs Have Owners, Cats Have Staff"  "Some Days You're the Bird, Some Days You're the Statue"

Jack waved her to take a seat and went over to the receptionist.  It was 1630 hours on a Thursday and there were only three other people waiting: what looked like a father and daughter with a small dog of some kind on a leash, and a woman with a traveling kennel.  The kennel's contents were meowing, so Sam felt safe in assuming there was a cat in there.

The little dog, possibly a chihuahua, though Sam was no expert, yapped enthusiastically and continually as Sam and Lucky walked over to a seat.  To Sam's knowledge, this was Lucky's first exposure to other animals, at least to other pets, and she kept a firm hold on the leash as she led him.

"Elise!  Get Scrappy up here!" the father said sharply.

As she sat, Sam looked to see what mischief the yappy little dog had gotten into, but the man wasn't looking at his own pet.  He was staring with indignation at Sam and Lucky.  His young daughter picked her dog up, looking about as confused as Sam felt.

"What's wrong, Dad?" the girl asked, her words almost drowned out by the continuing barking of her pet.

"That's a pit bull," the father said accusingly.  The girl stared at Lucky, her eyes wide.

Sam gripped the rope tighter, but she needn't have bothered.  Far from making any hostile moves, Lucky sat looking around the room alertly, sometimes pricking his ears at the ceaseless yaps of the chihuahua, sometimes sniffing in the direction of the hidden cat, sometimes glancing over to keep an eye on the Colonel.  But mainly he sat at ease, panting cheerfully.

Speaking up to be heard over his own dog, the man said to Sam, "You know you really shouldn't bring an animal like that into a veterinary clinic during regular hours."

"Why not?" Sam asked, the incessant barking beginning to give her a headache.

"Well, you know it could turn on you at any time," the man said with matter-of-fact authority.

Father and daughter stared at Lucky as if expecting him to turn into a killing machine any second.  Lucky yawned and lay down.  Scrappy continued to yap.

"And it'll eat a little dog like Scrappy here for breakfast," he concluded indignantly.

Massaging her temples, Sam gave pleasant smile.  "I can't imagine why."

The man frowned.

The receptionist stepped up, calling, "Time for Scrappy's checkup!"

As the yapping mercifully faded into the distance, Jack sat down, Lucky sitting up for an ear scratching.

"The gall of the man!" Sam fumed in a low voice.

Jack raised a brow in question.

"He accused Lucky of being some kind of out of control killer pit bull while his own yelpy little mutt was the aggressive one."

"Get used to it, Carter.  People see a pit and they think killer.  You thought the same thing when I first mentioned the breed."

Sam deflated.  "Well, I didn't know any better," she mumbled.  "Besides, I actually saw him kill something."  She gave Lucky a thorough neck-scratching, the dog stretching out, eyes fluttering in pleasure.  "You only kill for good, doncha, boy?  Never for evil."

Jack chuckled.  "Just like SG-1.  Although I might make an exception in the case of that chihuahua."

"Did you get an appointment?"

"Yeah, Henry's gonna fob his last appointment off onto one of his partners and see us in just a--"

"Lucky?" the receptionist called.  Lucky's head shot up and his wagging tail thumped Sam's leg.  "Time for your checkup, boy!"

Despite his obvious interest in meeting a new person, Lucky waited for Sam and Jack to lead the way back to the examination room.  The receptionist ushered them through and a man looked up from some paperwork he was reading.

He was gray-haired with old-fashioned half-framed bifocal glasses and when he saw Jack his face broke into a grin that crinkled up the laugh-lines around his eyes.  "Jack!" he called.  "You old freeloader, you!  What're you trying to get away with now?"

"Hey, Henry," Jack said with a grin, shaking the man's hand.  "Nothing!  And I'm not old!"

"But you are a freeloader, huh?  Oh well, you’re not as old as me at least."

Jack motioned Sam over.  "Dr. Henry Gore, this is Doctor-Major Sam Carter."

"Doctor-Major," Henry said, giving Sam an effusive handshake.  "You're Jack's subordinate?  I'm so sorry.  Who exactly did you piss off?"

Sam laughed as Jack rolled his eyes.  "Call me Sam.  And the Colonel is the best C.O. I've ever had."

"Sure his is."  Henry eyed the preening Jack doubtfully.  "Call me sometime and I'll tell you some stories."  Before Jack could object, the vet turned his attention to Lucky, his eyes lighting up.  “And is this the beautiful boy I've heard about?  Huh?"

[ ](http://s71.photobucket.com/albums/i121/PattRose1/A%20Dogs%20Life/?action=view&current=lucky.jpg)

Lucky pranced in place, his whole body wagging along with his tail.  Feeling silly at the pride that filled her, Sam released the rope leash and let Lucky wag his way over to the vet.  Henry let Lucky sniff and lick him before petting and stroking along the dog's neck and back.  "Ah, what a handsome boy you are!  Now where exactly did this charmer come from again?”

Jack cleared his throat.  “Uh, up in the hills aways.  He was basically wild, no people around to claim him.”

The vet raised a brow and waited a moment.  When neither Jack nor Sam volunteered any more information, he said, “He's obviously been socialized, so ‘wild’ doesn’t exactly apply.  And regardless of how you _actually_ acquired him, I would think the United States Air Force could afford more than a rope leash.”  He eyed Siler's make-shift leash with distaste.

Jack just grinned and shrugged.

Henry gave up pumping them for information with a resigned shake of the head and turned back to Lucky.  "First of all, let's weigh this big guy."  The vet led Lucky over to a wide scale, prompting him to climb on and asking Sam to hold the dog steady.  He calibrated the weights on top and announced the dog to be, "Every ounce of 69 pounds."  He ran a hand along Lucky's flank.  "His ribs are showing, that's a good thing on a dog.  This looks like the proper weight for him.  Okay, let's get you on the examination table." 

With Jack's help, the two men lifted the dog up, placing him on a sturdy metal-topped table.  One end of the table butted against the wall where a large poster proclaimed: "Because I'm the Veterinarian, That's Why"

Lucky skittered a bit, looking unhappy and nervous, his tail all but tucked between his legs.  The vet held him steady with a hand on his neck, looking him over carefully.  “A bit of a mix," he said.  "Especially with that chocolate-brown coat.  But he looks to be mostly APBT.”

“What's APBT?” Sam asked

“American Pit Bull Terrier.”

'American'?  Sam was positive no creature bred recently enough to be called 'American' could possibly be native to '931.  Of course, Daniel was the migration expert, and Sam wished for the hundredth time that day alone that her friend was there.

Jack returned Sam's skeptical look and asked Henry, "Uh, what exactly makes the breed 'American'?"

“Oh, it's more a matter of semantics than a separate breed,” the vet explained, beginning his examination of Lucky by checking the dog's eyes and prying open his mouth.  "Eyes look good, teeth white, gums healthy and hydrated, no halitosis," he muttered as he went.

Lucky closed his mouth, licking his lips and staring at the vet with an expression of such affronted dignity than Sam had to laugh.

In a louder voice the vet continued, "What we now call a pit bull was bred hundreds of years ago in the British Isles to 'bait' bulls.  They were actually called 'bulldogs' at that time.  In the late 1800's, the United Kennel Club in the U.S. re-named the bulldogs 'American Pit Bull Terriers.'  Same animal, new name.  It was just to provide a framework for breed standardization."

That sounded a little more likely, Sam thought.  And regardless of when the Goa’uld originally transported the peoples who would become the Aluants to their adoptive planet, Lucky's ancestors could have come through the Stargate to '931 at a later time.

The vet had moved onto the dog's ears, lifting them up to peer in and even smell.  "Looks okay, smells okay," he murmured.

Jack looked at Sam and mouthed, 'Smells?'

"Best way to check for infection," Henry said without turning to look at Jack.  "You wanted old-school, you got it."

Jack held up his hands in silent surrender.

"Now when bull-baiting became illegal," the vet went on, running his hands along Lucky's legs, back and under-belly, "dog fighting was the replacement.  It was very popular; the best fighters held up as heroes."  He prodded and palpitated Lucky’s abdomen, reporting, "Very good: no lumps, no bumps, no abdominal abnormalities."  As he pulled on a latex glove, he said, "At the same time, a very strong bite inhibition towards humans was encouraged through selective breeding, so handlers could stand in the fighting pits and pull their dogs apart without worrying about a redirected bite."

Lucky gave a little jump when the vet lifted the dog's tail and inserted a gloved finger into his anus.  "Anal glans okay," he said matter-of-factly.  This time Sam looked surprised.  "Very important to a dog," Henry explained.  "That's how they get the best scent to ID each other."

He snapped the glove off, tossing it in the waste pail.  Then he ran his hand up Lucky's back, against the grain of the hair.  "No fleas, skin looks good," he murmured.  "Now, because they culled out the 'man biters', pit bulls became well known for their devotion and trustworthiness."  He came around to the dog's head and rubbed Lucky’s neck.  Lucky's nervousness abated enough for him to give the vet a little lick to the chin.  "Yeah, you're a lover, not a fighter, huh, boy?"

Henry placed his stethoscope in his ears and asked for a moment's silence, listening all along Lucky's underbelly.  Eventually, he reported, "Lungs, heart, all sounds good."  He returned the 'scope to hang around his neck and stroked Lucky while he spoke, "When folks immigrated to America they brought all their prized possessions, and pit bulls were top of the list.  To most people, pits weren't fighters, they were simply working dogs: they helped with hunting, they were guardians and companions to children.  Pits were the All-American dog for generations, loyal friend to toddlers and soldiers alike.”

Jack snapped his fingers.  "Stubby!  The most decorated service dog in World War I.  He was a pit, right?"

"Dating yourself, there, Jack."  As Sam smothered a grin at Jack’s frown, the vet went on, “I’ll be giving Lucky the core vaccines and a rabies shot today.  They’re recommended for all puppies and dogs with an unknown vaccination history.  They stop distemper and some other potentially fatal diseases.”

The vet made short work of these two shots, administering one to each hind leg, Lucky maintaining a patient, if slightly worried attitude throughout.

Returning to Lucky's front, the vet stoked the dog's chest and said, "I'm seeing some fresh cuts here.  You sure he wasn't rescued from a ring?"

Confused, Sam repeated, "A ring?"

"A dog fighting ring."

"Dog fighting?” she asked.  “In this day and age?  You're kidding."

"No, Carter, unfortunately he isn't," Jack said.

"There are tens of thousands of people involved in dog fighting in America,” the vet said soberly.

“But why?” Sam asked.  “What’s the point?”

“Fighting dogs for profit is a multi-million dollar operation,” Henry answered.

Sam turned to Jack in disbelief, but he just nodded in agreement.

The vet continued, “Hundreds of thousands of pit bulls take the brunt of it every year.  Some fights follow what they call the old Cajun Rules, which civilizes it a bit, but it’s still extremely brutal."

"'Cajun...?  Oh, so this is out in rural areas, then."

"No, I'm afraid not.  These modern 'Dogmen' are urban to the core.  They organize impromptu fights in alleys or empty warehouses.  And they're not above stealing pit bulls, if they need fresh dogs.  In street fighting, even the winning dogs often die from their injuries.  And the cruelty perpetrated on the losers is..."  He trailed off, his features drawn in a way that Sam could tell was uncharacteristic for the jovial man.  "It's unbelievable,” he concluded shortly, clearly unwilling to say more.

Lucky's head was level with Sam's and their eyes met, Lucky somehow reflecting the surprise she felt.  She stroked the loose folds of flesh under his chin.  "So is it true?  That pit bulls are naturally dangerous?  Lucky's so sweet tempered."

The vet shook his head.  "Pits are no more dangerous than any dog, but they've been bred for fighting in the same way that other breeds were selected for hunting or herding.  In fact their bite is so strong, they have a reputation for being able to 'lock' their jaws, something physically impossible, by the way.”  He picked an empty syringe.  "Jack, could you hold his head up and steady?"

"Sure."

"Jugular vein's nice and big for a draw for the heart-worm check."  With Lucky's head up, he slipped the needle in and got the blood sample very quickly.  Rubbing the sting out of the dog's skin, he continued reflectively, "In cities all over America we have a bunch of irresponsible backyard breeders trying to make a statement about how tough they are by fighting their dogs.  For the first time in the breed's history, we've started hearing accounts of bites and attacks on humans by these poorly socialized and badly bred pit bulls.  The press’s played it up, the public's panicked.  Many times it’s not even pit bulls, but other breeds that were mislabeled.  Meanwhile the reputation of the entire breed's been dragged down with sensational headlines and a few rotten examples."

Henry took a deep breath, releasing his anger with a shake of the head as Sam and Jack stood lost in thought.  "Well, enough sermonizing," the vet said briskly.  "I’d say our handsome boy here is about two years old.  Now don’t forget, this is a working breed.  Very active.  He’ll want to be with you, helping you, right in the thick of things.”

“So I’ve noticed.”  Sam gave a rueful smile as she smoothed her dog’s fur down.

“Pits live about twelve or so years, so keep him healthy, and he'll be around for a good long time."

“Speaking of which," Sam said, "he doesn't really seem to like dog food.  We've been feeding him table scraps.”

“Well, Lucky’s probably been living off the land for a while, and actually the idea of 'dog food' is a fairly new one.  Traditionally people fed their dogs leftovers.  So you've been doing a good job so far with the canine-appropriate kitchen scraps. But perhaps from now on you could prepare his meals especially for him.”

Jack gave a hoot of derision.  "You want Carter to cook for the dog?  She doesn't even cook for herself."

Sam narrowed her eyes at her C.O.  "For your information, _Colonel_ , I cook frequently."

Jack was unrepentant.  "TV dinners don't count, Major."

Damn, how did he know?

The doctor grinned at them.  "He needs his food to be raw, actually.  So nothing as hard as cooking, although in fact some people do go all out.  They boil stock for a rich broth, cook yams or sweet potatoes for starch.”

“You’re kidding.”

Still grinning, he went on, “Don’t panic.  You can buy prepared beef or chicken stock, just make sure there's no added salt content.  Warm it up and soak some good quality dog kibble.  Then just add some raw meat, organic's best, but whatever you can afford.  And one raw egg a day wouldn't hurt.  As simple as that.”

Sam nodded slowly, stroking Lucky’s ears.  “I guess that’s not too bad.  And he’s certainly worth it.”

"Have you applied for a license yet?" the vet asked.

The Colonel had discussed getting a license for Lucky with General Hammond, but no decision had been made.  At the time they hadn't been sure what would happen to the alien dog when Sam was cleared to leave the base.  Getting a license would in effect state the SGC's intent to once again make an alien 'national' a resident of Earth.  After the trouble they'd had with Teal'c, Cassandra and Nyan, to name just a few, Hammond was trying to keep a low profile with Lucky.

Answering for Sam, Jack said, "We're going to hold off on that for the time being."

The vet blinked in surprise.  "Why?"

"Politics," Jack answered shortly.

The vet vet sighed.  "Okay, you can't fight City Hall.  Or the Pentagon, it appears.  Now, what are your feelings on neutering him?"

If Sam didn't know any better, she’d have thought Lucky jerked worse than he had during the anal exam.  "Well, there's always the possibility that the true owner will show up some day and I'd hate to do anything so permanent."

"What's the pros and cons, Henry?" Jack asked.

"For a male this big and powerful, it might be a good idea to curb his aggression."

If his aggression had been curbed back on that planet, Sam would be dead right now.  "I'm not sure that's necessary."

"She's right,” Jack said.  “He hasn't threatened a single person in the entire week we've had him.  And he's been around people constantly."

"Well, he did growl at someone just once," Sam admitted.

With a shrug Jack said, "Hell, I growl at people all the time and no one's ever threatened to castrate me."

"You sure about that, Jack?" Henry asked.

Jack ignored him and asked Sam, "Who did he growl at?"

"Graham Simmons."

Jack snorted.  "I'm sure Lucky just sensed a certain, shall we say, 'tension' radiating off the good Lieutenant."

"Sir..." Sam warned, fixing her C.O. with an insubordinate glare.

"Just a little faulty threat-assessment, huh, boy?"  Jack scratched Lucky vigorously under the chin and the dog's head shot out to lick Jack's nose.  "Ah!  Quit that, dog."

Grinning at the interplay, Henry observed, “One advantage of getting a fully grown rescue dog is you know his temperament from the get-go.  Just watch his interactions with children closely to begin with.  Also, watch for any aggression against other dogs.  Other than that, looks like you got yourself a wonderful companion here.”

“I guess I do,” Sam said thoughtfully.

Soon after that, they said their goodbyes and, once Sam paid for the checkup herself, turning down Jack's offer, the two Air Force officers walked out to the parking lot.

"You know we've got Cassie's anniversary barbecue coming up this weekend," Jack said.  "That would be the perfect chance to test him on both children and other dogs."

This was SG-1's annual celebration of Cassie's arrival on Earth, the party explained to the girl's friends as the anniversary of her arrival in America from 'Toronto.'  "What if he freaks out?" Sam asked.

"Keep him on-leash," Jack said.  "If he freaks, we'll let him go chill in my spare room."  They reached their cars.  "And speaking of leashes, we've got two stops before going to your house.  The grocery store and the pet store."

Sam groaned.  "I just went to the grocery store."

"Did you get organic ground beef, salt-free broth, and high quality dog kibble?"

"No."

"Well, then.  You get the groceries.  I’ll get the fun stuff."

Sam protested, "Sir, you really don't have to go to so much trouble for me.  I'm sure I can figure this out..."

"Okay, then, Carter, what kind of collar will it be?  Flat collar, choke chain, prong collar, martingale collar, shock collar, head collar, or harness?"

Holy Hannah.  Who knew having a dog was so complicated?  This was why she’d always stuck to simple stuff, like naquadah reactors.  "Well..."

"Carter, you have a simple choice: try to do it all yourself or let me give you a bit of help. Which do you think ol’ Doc Fraiser would prefer?”  Colonel O'Neill raised his brows in innocent curiosity, giving her still-tender left arm a significant stare.

There was a long pause.  "Sir, I think that's a great plan," Sam concluded brightly.  She hustled Lucky into her car.  "C'mon, Lucky, let's let the Colonel concentrate."

After a quick trip to the grocery store, letting Lucky wait in the car, Sam arrived at her house with her new pet.

'New' pet.  She sighed as she lead the alien dog up the front stairs and unlocked the door.  She'd never even had an old pet.  She'd never had a pet at all.  Well, unless you count an Ant Farm.  Her brother Mark had.  He'd whined and complained and gotten his way, playing with his new puppy for a couple weeks before he'd gotten bored and their parents had given it away to a neighbor's kids.

In fact, the closest she'd come to having a pet was passing along the cat Schroedinger from one of the physics guys to Narim of the Tollans.  Larry the lab tech’s new apartment complex had not allowed pets and Sam had had possession of the cat for all of 45 minutes before she’d given it to Narim.

Rushing through the door, Lucky gave the house a thorough run-through, sniffing everything, Sam quickly picking up any loose items sitting around.  It had taken a long time to get things back to normal after first the SGC, then Orlin, then the NID trashed her house a couple months ago and she didn't want Lucky to make a new mess.  Her house wasn't very big, but the backyard was, and the dog bounded through the ‘mud room’ and out the backdoor with enthusiasm when she opened it.

Soon enough, Jack arrived with Teal'c in tow, having swung by the Mountain to pick the Jaffa up for this impromptu team-night.  The two men brought in several large bags from PetCo, and, with great ceremony, Jack pulled out what he called a ‘back-attaching harness.’  "They said it's good for a dog like Lucky that doesn't try to pull away from you all the time,” he explained, handing it proudly off to Sam.  “Plus it looks way cool."

Sam held item up with two fingers, staring in disbelief.  "Studs?!  Sir!"  Sure enough the triangular front panel that would cover Lucky’s chest was covered with enough silver studs to make a Hell’s Angels biker jealous.

"What?  It’s not like they’re spikes, just a few tasteful studs.  On leather."

Sam glared.

"Black leather,” Jack admitted, then huffed with impatience.  “Hey, no one'll mess with you two when you're out."

He was right, she had to admit.  The bright metal studs on black leather would definitely make anyone think twice about messing with a pit bull wearing that, or its owner.

[ ](http://s71.photobucket.com/albums/i121/PattRose1/A%20Dogs%20Life/?action=view&current=harnessstudded.jpg)

"I'm gonna look like some kind of, um..." Sam trailed off, but Teal'c finished helpfully, "Dominatrix?"

Teal'c returned the shocked stares of his two teammates with equanimity. 

"T, what have I said about those Internet sites?" Jack finally asked.

"Ensure there are no witnesses and delete browser history," Teal'c recited promptly.

"Uh, right," the Colonel mumbled as Sam bit her inner cheek to keep from laughing.  "Anyhow."  He jerked two huge shopping bags out of the vaguely smirking Teal'c's hands and dumped out the contents: a dog bed and a dog door.

“Sir, you really shouldn't have,” Sam declared.  “This is all too much."

"Don't spoil my fun, Carter."

"I'm paying you back for all of this."

"You do, and I'll put you on report."

"But, a dog door?"

"You won't regret it.  Every morning when Lucky lets himself out at 0500 to take a pee and you stay nice and cozy in bed.  Don't worry, it won't hurt your resale value."

She opened the kit, looking over the instructions.  "We really need Daniel to translate this..."

Jack squeezed her shoulder.  "We'll have him look it over when he gets back."

Teal'c looked skeptically at the plans.  "Indeed.  We may still be constructing this doorway when Daniel Jackson returns."

Jack called in a pizza and SG-1 dove into their backdoor project, Lucky alternating dozing in the living room with nosing around and getting in the way.  The pizza had arrived and the first few slices consumed when dog door was finished and Lucky had his own private route to the back yard.  The alien dog, however, didn't seem to understand what the little door was for.  He resisted Jack's efforts to shove him through and it was only after Jack had stuck his own head and arms through the doorway flap several times in demonstration that the dog caught on.

***

If a dog could laugh its ass off, Daniel would have.  The sight of Jack banging his head repeatedly against the dog door flap was priceless.  If only he'd had his video camera...  He eventually took pity on his CO and demonstrated Lucky's brilliance by diving through the door, then tearing around the backyard with Jack and Teal'c a few times.  When they came back in, he was happy to find Sam putting the finishing touches on his own dinner.

"Looks like I finally found a use for this baking gear Mark gave me for my birthday last year," Sam said, nudging the big glass mixing bowl with a grin.

"Yeah, it's not like you'd actually be caught baking anything in it," Jack confirmed with a philosophical nod.

With a flourish, Sam placed the bowl in front of Daniel, who sniffed at it suspiciously.  The soupy broth of soggy kibble and raw beef with a whole egg floating on top would've probably disgusted him as a human.  That certainly seemed to be Jack's conclusion, to judge from his overly hearty endorsement: "Oh, yeah!  Looks simply yummers, Carter.  You should consider volunteering at the commissary on your off hours.  Not that this really looks a lot different from the soup they served last Wednesday..."

But it didn't smell bad.  Daniel took an exploratory nibble.  Yum, raw.  None of the goodness cooked out of it.  He slurped the egg and kept going, lapping and chewing his way to the bottom of the bowl in no time.  He sat up, licking his chops, looking hopefully at Sam.

"No, no," Jack said, laughing.  "No seconds, boy.  One helping of Carter's cooking is enough for anyone."

Ignoring her C.O., Sam said, "Wow, this is the first time anyone's ever finished something I made."

"Nonsense, Carter.  Remember when Teal'c said your muffins reminded him of the Koochi-whatsit cakes he ate as a boy?"

"Yes, the burnt offerings meant to appease vengeful gods, I remember."

Oh yeah, Daniel thought, licking his nose clean as Sam washed up.  It had taken Teal'c some doing to get back on Sam's good side after that little faux pas. 

In the living room after dinner, Jack pulled a toy out of the last bag from the pet store.

"A rubber chicken?" Sam asked skeptically.  "Sir, you said you were getting toys for _Lucky_."

With a show of wounded dignity, Jack said, "It's a tug-toy, Carter.  Because nothing says fun like a rubber chicken.  Right, boy?"

It was rather satisfying to bite into something that squeaked.  And even though he knew very well that it was Jack moving the toy around, his canine instinct loved the thrill of the chase.

"I know what Daniel would say," Sam remarked when the dog finally got the toy away from Jack and sat down to chew on it.

"'Tastes like chicken,'" all three humanoid SG-1 members said.  The smiles they shared were strained, and even Jack seemed to be at a loss for a quip to cheer up the suddenly sober Sam.

Daniel jumped up, needing to distract Sam.  He caught sight of his tail and decided, what the heck.  Spinning around and around in the center of the living room rug, he chased his tail, Sam and Jack erupting into surprised laughter.

His voice a matter-of-fact rumble, Teal’c said, “I do not understand how a creature intelligent enough to foil a bear could mistake its own tail for an enemy.”

Sam and Jack just laughed all the harder.  Daniel tightened his circuit, wondering for a dizzy second if he really _could_ catch his tail.  The world blurred and he gave it up, collapsing to his rump, panting hard.

Jack patted his head.  “Ah, you still got a little bit of puppyhood left, doncha, boy?  That’s a good thing, huh?”

Catching her breath, Sam ruffled his ears.  “I think he’s doing it just to entertain us.”

The party broke up soon after that.  Just as well.  Between the howling in the Stockade, the vet checkup, and the move into Sam's house, Daniel was worn out.  He settled into his new dog bed at the foot of Sam's bed.  Before he drifted off he took another peek at the Dark One.  It had followed Sam all day, but from a distance.  Now, Daniel could see it riding high in the sky, a blot of spiritual darkness obscuring the brilliant stars.


	4. Vigilance

Saturday morning, at a quarter 'til eleven, Sam loaded Daniel and the obligatory bowl of homemade potato salad ('homemade' by the local deli that is) into her car and pulled up at Jack's house for the barbeque, punctual as always.

Friday had been just Sam and Daniel, alone all day at her house, and dear god, if only Daniel had been himself.  If only he could have stroked her hair the way she stroked his fur, if only her endearments had been directed at himself instead of 'Lucky,' if only he could have responded with affectionate and loving words of his own.  Of course he could do none of these things, and really, if he had been himself, Sam wouldn't have been treating him any differently than usual.  In fact, she probably would've been with Jack, both of them enjoying a day off together.  Still, however selfish, he couldn't help enjoying this time he'd been given.

As he followed Sam up the front walk, he was startled out of his reverie by a shout from the backyard: "Carter, thank god!  I need folding chair deployment, stat!"

Typical Jack.  You'd think the anniversary of Cassie's arrival on Earth would be a quiet affair with just SG-1 and Janet.  But no, Jack had to invite practically the whole Mountain, along with any friends of Cassie she wanted to come, and of course their families.  It had made for some awkward conversations, especially when the SGC personnel had not been adequately briefed on the whole 'moved to the U.S. from Toronto' angle, the alien girl's rather flimsy cover story.

Jack was getting ready in the back, but as there was as yet no plume of toxic smoke, he had evidently not started cooking.  With a grin, Sam waved and called, "On my way, sir!"  She and Daniel went in to the kitchen, setting the food down on a counter.  Also typically, Jack left management of the side-dishes up to Sam.  Apparently only cooking which involved actual flames was macho enough for him.  This division of labor always secretly irritated Daniel.  Just because Sam was Jack's girlfriend, didn't mean she had to be relegated to the kitchen.  On the other hand, he sometimes asked Daniel to handle it and Daniel didn't even want to think about what that meant.

"C'mon, boy, let's go help the Colonel," Sam said.

~If we must...~

When Daniel trotted into Jack's view, the Colonel looked first at the dog, then accusingly at Sam, whining, "Aw, Carter."

"Sorry, sir, it had to be done," she said without a trace of apology in her voice.

She had, thank god, covered over the bright metal studs of the harness with black paint.  When Jack continued to glare, she said, "Sir, Lucky would've scared off half your guests looking like that."

Jack rolled his eyes, but muttered with poor grace, "Yeah, probably."

With an apologetic pat to Daniel's head, Sam tied his leash to a porch-post and began to 'deploy' chairs.  She and Jack didn't want 'Lucky' to run amuck until they knew how he'd respond to crowds.

However, as Daniel could have told them, Lucky behaved himself impeccably that afternoon.

When an early-arriving family approached, both Sam and Jack flanked Daniel faux-casually.  Daniel let himself be calmly introduced to the daughter, a member of the girls' basketball team Cassie played on.  He sniffed her politely, resisting the impulse to lick.  The parents were still hesitant, and Daniel understood why when their three-year-old son toddled up, gave an ear-splitting shriek of joy when he caught sight of Daniel, and abruptly launched himself into Daniel's face.

All four adults reached to intervene, but they needn't have bothered.  Daniel couldn't help flattening his ears at the sound, but both his conscious mind and his pit bull instincts agreed: little human equals fun.  He went down in a play-bow, tail wagging furiously.  When the mother tried to pick her son up, Daniel came up too, the little boy's hand firmly fastened onto one of Daniel's ears, giggling wildly at the tongue lapping at his own ear.

"Down!  Down!" the boy demanded.

The mother returned him to the ground, still keeping hold of him, worried.  "Richie, don't hurt the doggy, he might bite."

"Play!  Play!"

Daniel kept up the licking until the laughing boy released his grip, then went back to his nonthreatening play-bow.

"That settles that," he heard Jack whisper to Sam.  "Plays well with children."

Soon even the watchful parents were won over, and Sam unhooked the leash.  Daniel and the toddler moved out onto the lawn, playing gently.  Daniel would run away a few steps until the boy shouted, then come back, giving the inevitable lick.  He couldn't help it, the kid tasted good, like applesauce, bubble bath and crayons.

Daniel's ears pricked when he heard a familiar voice and he looked over at the growing throng of people, his grayish canine-vision unable to differentiate people's faces.  He heard the voice again, and finally saw her: it was definitely Cassie, Janet and Teal'c at her side, Sam and Jack giving her welcome hugs.  He trotted over, leaving an exhausted toddler in his wake.

The incident with Nirrti and the 'mind-fire' on her 16th birthday had eased some of the teenage angst Cassie was going through.  No, she'd never be that trusting eleven-year-old who hung on every word Jack said and believed him implicitly, but at least the sullen anger was gone, leaving a glimpse of the confident young woman who would blossom in just a few short years.

Not wanting to scare the girl, he rubbed up against Sam's leg.  "Hey, Cassie, we'd like you to meet someone.  His name's Lucky."

Cassie gave a gasp of delight.  "Oh!  He's sooo cute!"  She got down on her knees, her teenage dignity forgotten, hugging and petting as Daniel got in as many licks as he could.  Laughing, she asked, "Where did you get him?"

Sam exchanged a look with Jack.  "Um, he's from Toronto, actually," she said.

Cassie's eyes got big.  "Really?"

Glancing at Teal'c, Jack remarked, "Yeah, seems like a lot of folks from Toronto come to the Springs."

"Indeed," Teal'c confirmed serenely.  "Colorado Springs is a most enjoyable place to visit."

As they laughed Daniel breathed Cassie in: strawberry shampoo and jet-black nail polish overlying the subtle essence of naquadah she shared with Sam and Teal'c.

Cassie's strokes turned contemplative.  "I wish Daniel was here too."

"He'll be back before you know it," Sam said abruptly, immediately walking away, saying over her shoulder, "I'll go set up the side dishes."

Daniel barely noticed her sudden departure.  Nose twitching, he gave Cassie another whiff.  What _was_ that?  She smelled like...

"Hey, Lucky," Jack said.  "Your Aunt Janet brought you a new friend."

Eyes rolling, Janet tugged on a leash.  Oh, so _that's_ what he smelled on Cassie.  With all the smells and sights of the party, Daniel hadn't noticed the presence of another dog.  It was Rover, the furry mutt Jack had bought for Cassie when Janet adopted her.  Daniel had smelled the residue of other dogs at the vet's, he'd seen the obnoxious chihuahua, but he'd never come into personal contact with another dog yet.

With Cassie holding tight to his collar, the two dogs sniffed at one another.

"Aren't pit bulls supposed to hate other dogs?" Janet asked nervously.

"In some cases," Jack admitted.  "But it doesn't necessarily mean a fight."

The humans allowed the two dogs to approach each other.  Rover kept his head low and didn't move when Daniel followed his instincts and went around to sniff the other dog's butt.  Hey, what could he say?  Doc Henry was right.  The anal glans afforded the most reliable and immediate scent signature of an animal.  By holding still and allowing Daniel the first move, Rover was signaling his submission.  Daniel took his time, as suited an alpha male.  When he finally finished and deigned to allow Rover to smell his own scent, he waited only just long enough for the other dog to memorize him, before prancing back to face him.  By the time Janet removed Rover's leash, the two dogs had established the pecking order and thoroughly identified one another.  Next time they met, there would be no confusion over who was boss and no need for posturing or fighting.  That was the way it was in the canine world and Daniel couldn't help smirking internally at the memory of a few first-time meetings he'd witnessed Jack making with new subordinate Airmen: no actual butt-sniffing, true, but all the other nonverbal cues were there even in the human world.

Dominance established, Rover happily joined 'Lucky' on the lawn.  The toddler, Richie, had been joined by some other of the younger children present and they all shouted with excitement to have two doggies to torment now.  A great deal of random running about ensued, mainly a game of keep-away with the two dogs trying to keep their ears and tails out of the hands of their overly enthusiastic admirers.

"Colonel Jack, come play with us!" one of the older kids shouted.

Jack watched from the edge of the lawn with Cassie and a boy Cassie's age whom Daniel guessed to be the would-be boyfriend, Dominic.

"C'mon, Cass!" Jack called running into the midst of the action, not needing to be asked twice.

Cassie looked torn, her idea of 'teenage-cool' conflicting with her desire for just plain fun.  She turned to Dominic for direction.  The lanky teen, in a show of wisdom far beyond what Daniel would've credited him with, deferred to Jack, grabbing Cassie's hand and tugging her onto the lawn.  Dominic certainly knew whose goodwill he needed to cultivate.

In the chaos of shrieking, running kids, Jack belted out a stirring rendition of ‘Who Let the Dogs Out?’, Cassie and Dominic supplying the 'woof woof' chorus.  Daniel went a little crazy with excitement, leaping up and licking at person after person.  This went on for some time, until he unfortunately jumped up on a little girl who weighed probably half as much as he did, knocking her flat.  She wailed as Cassie tried to comfort her, finally cheering up at the sight of 'Lucky' crawling to her on his belly, whining in abject apology.

The barbecue proceeded pretty much as all Jack's barbecues did: charred meat stubbornly referred to as 'seared,' Lou Ferretti attempting to wrestle the tongs out of Jack's hand before Jack pulled rank on him, Sam and Janet quietly divvying up the side dishes so no one would starve. 

Although Daniel's primary view of people's legs rather than their faces was different this time.  Plus he didn't usually play fetch from the ball-catching position.

Daniel had just delivered the ball to Cassie's hand when he caught sight of General Hammond arriving.  He didn't even try to contain his excitement.  He shot off across the grass, divots flying in his wake, like a guided missile.  George didn't stand a chance.  By the time the veteran military man realized his danger, it was too late.  Daniel had jumped up, given him a good juicy lick right on the lips, then dropped back down, prancing and play-bowing in circles around him, daring him with little barks to chase.

George wiped his mouth with as much dignity as his office afforded, fixing Jack with a steady gaze.

"Uh, yeah, that pretty much means he likes you, sir.  It's a compliment, in fact.  He's a good judge of character."

Cassie had caught up with Daniel at this point.  "General!  Throw the ball for Lucky!"  She slapped the drool saturated tennis ball into the General's hand with a splash.

[ ](http://s71.photobucket.com/albums/i121/PattRose1/A%20Dogs%20Life/?action=view&current=cassielucky.jpg)

Hammond of Texas was not a man to refuse a challenge.  He strode to the grass and launched the ball with a mighty heave.  The game was on, and Daniel tore after the missile with dispatch.

Some time later he trotted through the throng, occasionally receiving pats and attention, when he noticed a smell he didn't like.  He followed it to its source.  Ugh.  Graham Simmons.  Who invited him?  He had no especial relationship with Cassie.  Probably Jack teasing Sam.

Daniel devised a new game, entertaining himself by sitting near Graham and just staring at him.  The beauty of it was no one could fault him; he wasn't growling or anything.  Just staring.

Silently.

Steadily.

Every time Graham turned around.

When the Lieutenant stammered an excuse and left the party early, Daniel celebrated by stealing a rib from Jack's plate.

The party wound down late that night, Cassie and Dominic sitting apart from the adults in the dark shadows under a willow tree, Rover sound asleep at the girl's feet.  SG-1 sat with Janet and General Hammond on the porch, talking quietly as moths flitted around the party torches. 

Sam was a touch sulky as the General had just insisted she take off a full two weeks to complete her recovery.  When Sam tried to protest, he pointed out the fact that Sam had been working for several hours a day during the time she was confined on base, supposedly on medical stand down.  This managed to shut the Major up.

Daniel alternated drowsing and wandering to each person, receiving pats and rub-downs.  Even Janet had warmed up to him, asking Jack peevishly "Why couldn't you have gotten Cassie a dog as smart as Lucky?  He's a Rhodes Scholar compared to Rover."

~Rhodes Scholar, humph.  Try triple doctorate.~

"C'mon, dog, rollover and lemme give you a belly rub," Jack demanded.

~No way in hell, Jack.~  Daniel aimed an appropriately withering stare at his team leader.

"Jeez, I never met such a serious dog."

"Maybe you could teach him to lighten up, Colonel," Janet said with a smirk.

"As a matter of fact, I plan on training him."

"Really, sir?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I was reading up on it.  Clicker training.  You get a few of those little metal cricket clicker thingies.  First you have to 'charge' the clicker, get him to associate the sound with a treat."

"Oh, just like Pavlov's dog associated getting food with the sound of the bell."

"Right.  Once Lucky associates the click with the treat, we start to click when he does something we want, like a heel command, or sit, or whatever."

"We?  Sir, I'm not sure how good I am at that kind of thing."

"Don't worry, Teal'c's on board.  We'll get Lucky through basic training in no time."

Teal'c gave a solemn nod.  "I believe the dog Lucky's intelligence to be on par with most of the young recruits I have had contact with in both the SGC and the Jaffa fighting forces."

Hammond tried to look insulted, but a snort of amusement spoiled the effect.

Their conversation wandered from there to the pets people had had as children.  Then Janet wondered if Daniel had ever had a pet.  No one knew and it set them off reminiscing about him.  (He had briefly adopted a stray cat found on the streets of Cairo, naming her Bastet; she'd tolerated him for a couple weeks before run away again the day after his 7th birthday.)

Hearing them trade stories about him made Daniel feel like he'd wandered into his own wake.  Jack and Hammond's old chestnuts about their first meeting with Daniel he could handle.  But when Teal'c began to solemnly recount his anguish and regret regarding Shau'ri's death, Daniel had to leave.  He didn't want to hear that.  And he definitely didn't want to hear anything Sam might have to say.  He had impinged on her privacy enough.

He trotted over to Cassie and Dominic to find the boy earnestly explaining how his love was vaster than the star-filled night sky.  Yes, young love was a wonderful thing, but did it have to be so…nauseating? 

He settled on the grass halfway between the two groups and dozed until Sam was ready to go.

***

The days following the barbecue flew by, just Sam and 'Lucky' in her little bungalow. 

For Sam, she'd found a kind of peace that she hadn't imagined even existed before.  She loved to sit with the dog on the couch, Lucky curled up with his chin resting on her thigh, one of her hands idly stroking his head.  Not on her laptop, clickety-clacking away, not reading some physics journal, not even watching TV.  Just sitting.  Relaxing.  She wasn't used to living like this and when occasionally the thought of indulging in mere relaxation caused her mind to race into overdrive, down the worn pathways of work and worry, Lucky would heave one of those sweet little doggy-sighs he gave and she'd calm down again, sometimes without really being aware of it.  His eyes would blink and close as she scratched behind his ears.  Ah, to be that innocent and without a care.  In a way she envied him.

For Daniel it was part joy, part pain.  God, how he wanted this for real, with his real arms, his own body, to hold her, warm her, love her.  To talk to her, tell her...that he loved her...?  No, of course he wouldn't.  He would never force her to choose.  If he came between her and Jack, he would lose.  How could he not?  Jack cut a very dashing figure, he knew that.  He was happy for his friends.  He was.  So he would cuddle on the couch and snuff a sigh out, and Sam would scratch his ears.  This was it.  This ridiculous fantasy he was living.  These two months would be his only chance to snuggle with Sam, so he better make the most of it.

***

The first time Sam left him alone in the house was for a quick trip to the grocery store. 

Daniel knew it was stupid, but he was nervous.  He watched the Dark One float along in Sam's airspace unchanged in aspect, so she was sure to be okay.  It seemed that as long as he kept track of the calendar so he knew when to return to '931 (however the heck he was going to swing that), and kept his inner eye peeled for the dark Suss'risa, he had it made.

But still he slunk morosely around the house.  Even his skin felt lonely.  He ached for a touch.  One particular touch...

The whole house smelled of Sam and he took comfort in it.  He caught an especially strong scent and followed it to the fuzzy slippers Sam used through the cold winter months.  He buried his nose and sniffed deeply.  That was nice, but a taste was even better.  He nosed and chewed and snuffled until he discovered there was nothing to chew anymore but strips of frayed fabric and loose fuzz.  Crap.  He hadn't meant to do that.  Sam was gonna kill him.  He felt a new wave of loneliness and eyed the second slipper.  Oh well, in for a penny...

Daniel groveled convincingly for the tongue lashing Sam gave him later that day, but he wasn't particularly sorry.  How could he be sorry as long as she was in the room with him?

That night Jack came by, bearing enough chew toys to choke a whole kennel of bored pit bulls.

"Finally, Carter," he crowed.  "I got all this that first day at the pet store." 

Among the usual suspects of chewable rubber, was a fat furry thing that, after much squinting, Daniel figured out represented a hollowed-out tree stump.  He nosed it in curiosity, not sure what the point was.  He chomped down and heard a squeak.  As his two teammates laughed, he spent a good five minutes pulling out and thoroughly chewing up three squeaky little squirrels. 

"They said it feeds into dogs' carcass dissection programming," Jack enthused.

"Yuck," Sam said, voicing Daniel's thought.  Still it was kind of fun.

"I saved the best one for last.  C'mon in the kitchen, Carter." 

Daniel followed them in, sitting patiently as Jack unwrapped something out of sight on the counter. 

"Remember what Doc Gore said.  Pit bulls are a working breed.  They're too smart to just sit around all day.  This is just the thing to save your slippers."

They pulled out the peanut butter and a milk-bone treat, fussing around on the kitchen counter for a while.  Finally Jack turned to Daniel, hiding something in his hands.  "C'mon, boy, got something for ya!  Yeah, you're gonna love this!"

By this time Daniel was jumping high in excitement.  He couldn't help it and didn't really try.  The peanut butter smelled great and he was hungry.  Jack made a couple fake throwing motions and Daniel skittered around, trying to anticipate the laughing man.  Then something left Jack's hand for real, flying across the living room and landing with a thump.  Daniel chased after it, but lost it when it stopped moving, the smell of peanut butter pervading the room making it hard to zero-in on the mystery object.  He whirled around, looking wildly as Sam laughed. 

“Stop being a goof, Lucky, it's right there!  I mean, jeez, it's bright red!” Jack said, pointing.

Red?  Daniel looked around blankly, finally seeing the toy, a dull charcoal grey to his eyes.  ~Jeez yourself, Jack, not my fault the people who make dog toys make them in colors dogs can't see!~

It was a snowman-shaped hunk of rubber with a hollow bottom.  Jack had filled it with the peanut butter and jammed the milk-bone in.  Daniel attacked it, pushing it futilely at first as he tried to get his mouth on it, then holding it with one paw and digging teeth and tongue in to coax the good stuff out.

"Put it out when you leave the house and he'll be set for a long time," Jack said.  "Better yet, hide it somewhere so he can ferret it out first."  Jack patted Daniel's flank as he worked a bit of the milk-bone loose and swallowed it down.

After Daniel had finished polishing the rubber toy clean, Jack once again tried to give him a belly-rub, Daniel once again stared him down.

"Sorry, sir," Sam smirked.  "I think Lucky's more dignified than you."

The house's two humans occupants had settled down with a couple beers while Daniel had puzzled out his treat, and now their conversation turned to events at the Mountain, Sam grinning as Jack described just how much muddier Lou Ferretti was than the rest of his team when SG-2 came sloshing through the wormhole this afternoon.

So Daniel did what he always did when Sam and Jack had a moment to themselves: he gave them their privacy.  He slipped away through the dog door into the backyard, telling himself he was glad they had some time together, glad they had each other.  In fact, it was surprising that Jack wasn't over more often, especially with Sam taking time off.  He supposed they still had to maintain appearances.  So he crept under a Ponderosa pine that rustled and sang in the evening breeze, lay down on the springy needles, and absolutely refused to begrudge them a few minutes alone. 

After all, he loved Jack like an older brother.  An annoying older brother.  Emphasis on the 'old' part, he added with a mental smirk, then snorted up a plume of old needles.

There wasn't much to do outside when he was alone.  He'd already put the finishing touches on a little escape tunnel he'd dug under a side fence, hidden deep under a thick and tangled sumac bush.  There was no telling when he might need a quick getaway.  He briefly considered chasing Twinkletoes, the neighbors' cat, from the top of the fence, but neither he nor 'Lucky' had an interest in playing with cats.  Other dogs would do in a pinch, but people were who they both craved.  Especially a certain person...

Refusing to let himself obsess on what was going on in Sam's house right now he firmly turned his attention to his canine senses, using his nose to check on the raccoon family that lived in an abandoned shed on the property behind the back fence (smelled like mom was out on the prowl tonight while dad stayed home with the kids), listening to the small scuttling and clicking sounds of insects infiltrating the pine tree's bark, watching the stars twinkle with an extra vibrancy he'd never noticed as a human. 

...Waiting for the moment when Sam called him back into the house.

***

Daniel was never so grateful that Sam had a park across the street from her house.  He loved going for strolls with her.  Of course he had to be leashed in public, but his 'Lucky' persona didn't seem to mind.  In fact the doggy side of him seemed to like it.  Daniel didn't mind the leash either.  Humans create ties too, virtual leashes to bind themselves together into groups and clans, invisible, but stronger than any mere length of nylon could ever be.  He knew he had a reputation around the SGC of being solitary, even standoffish at times, but he did need friends, and in SG-1 he had found himself a family to replace the families he had twice lost.

Simple strolling of course wasn't enough to of a workout for a pit bull.  After a long walk, Sam would take off the leash to play a long game of fetch, using one of those long-handled ball throwers to give 'Lucky' a real challenge. 

[ ](http://s71.photobucket.com/albums/i121/PattRose1/A%20Dogs%20Life/?action=view&current=samlucky2.jpg)

In the park the two of them found the mixed reactions that they'd come to realize were typical of America's ambivalent attitude to pit bulls.  One man with a pit of his own approached Sam, nodded at Daniel, saying, “Nice bully.”

“Oh, no, he’s not a bully at all," Sam assured him defensively.  "Lucky's very sweet tempered.”

“No, no," the man said with a chuckle.  "Pit bull, bully…?”

“Oh."  Sam gave a rueful grin.  "Sorry.”

“New owner?”

“Yeah.”

“Is he a rescue?”

Sam laughed.  “I think he rescued me actually.”

“Yeah, I feel the same about my guy.”

They talked for a while, Sam getting some pointers on pit bull behavior (not that Daniel was really a typical pit of course).  Daniel and the other 'bully' sniffed each other politely, neither willing concede alpha status.  They both ended up sitting next to their owner, waiting to play.

But for every person like that man, there were many others who stared, frowned, and pointedly backed off at the sight of a pit bull, sometimes going so far as to move to the other side of the street.  All Sam could do was smile and try to be a responsible ‘ambassador of the breed.’ 

Daniel didn't take the ignorant hostility personally, trying instead to project the peaceful explorer vibe he used off world to such success.  He tried to be especially calm around other dogs, although he did have one bad moment on a walk with Sam one day in a crowded dog-run. 

A cloying scent caught his nose, sharp and deep, so intriguing.  He followed his nose to the source, and saw a medium collie.  It was a girl dog he realized, and the smell coming from her…  He whiffed deeply and sudden images came to his mind, his dog’s body reacting strongly, eagerly, his human mind reeling with disgust.  He crouched with a whine, slinking over to put Sam between him and the dog in heat, the bitch in heat--oh god! 

He slunk closer to Sam, almost tripping her.  “What’s wrong?  Huh, boy?” 

~Nothing scrubbing my mind out with soap and water won’t cure.~  He kept going, holding his breath, tugging on the leash, willing Sam to walk faster.

As much as he loved exploring with Sam, Daniel got a special kick out of going for a walk with Jack.  What he liked to do was to run around until the leash ended up between the Colonel's legs, then suddenly dart forward.  Jack's squawk never got old.  The third time he did this on one walk, Jack whined, "Damn it, Lucky!  I defended _your_ nuts, the least you could do is return the favor."  Daniel took pity, doubling back to lick his team leader's nose, eliciting yet another squawk.

***

Okay, here they were, the day Daniel had been dreading.  Sam's first day off medical leave and back on base full time.  The idea that 'Lucky' would go with her had never even been mentioned.  Just a lot of preparation: Daniel was closed into the mudroom, having full access to the backyard through the dog door, but none to the rest of the house; a selection of sturdy toys were distributed throughout the yard, meant to keep him occupied for a few hours.  He knew from overheard conversations that Sam planned to come home at lunchtime to check on him. 

Sam and Jack both wondered if a dog as big and active as 'Lucky' would survive being alone so long without going stir-crazy.  This was in fact Sam's main reason for not taking ownership of a dog in the first place and no one had a solution. 

Except Daniel of course.  ~Just take me with you, Sam!~ 

She, equally of course, did not hear him and continued her overly-cheerful monologue about what a great relaxing day he had in store and how much fun he would have figuring out the peanut butter chew toy and, please god, not chewing up her patio furniture.

Daniel tried whining, wagging, using his sad puppy dog eyes.

Regardless, Sam left.

Huh.  Seemed like the puppy dog eyes worked better as a man than a dog. 

Okay.  So Plan B it was.

He checked on the Dark One.  Still just hovering, but it was definitely following along with Sam.  He couldn’t risk it, not with Sam gone for several hours at least, and possibly even longer if she was delayed at the Mountain.  He had to stay with her. 

He went out to the patio, catching a whiff of peanut butter.  Hmm...  Where did she hide it, over behind the wood pile...?  No, he didn't have time for that now, he had things just a little bit more important to do.  Besides, he could still eat it when they got home this evening.  Probably the ants would have found it by then, but that would just spice it up nicely.

First he shoved a chair over to the yard's side gate, making it look like he jumped out.  Then he went over to the sumac bush, to his pre-dug escape hatch, slipping under and out to an open area between several houses, a narrow strip of no man's land which served as the utility company's power line access. 

Now for the long road to the Mountain.  He kept carefully off to the side of the roads he traveled, sometimes cutting across fields, sometimes going down back alleys.  He didn’t want a trip to the local pound curtesy of the dog catcher.  But Colorado Springs was nothing if not well-wooded, and the closer he got to the Mountain, the more cover there was.  Reaching Cheyenne Mountain, he darted easily through the first check point, hidden by an in-coming vehicle, and crossed the vast parking lot. 

At the main entrance check point he waited until he spied an SGC Airman who knew him, one of Siler's engineering crew leaving base after coming off the graveyard shift.  He knelt down, scrubbing Daniel behind the ears.  "Lucky-boy!  Whatcha doing up here?  Where's your mistress?"  In the guards' station, he made a call down to Sam, who came up immediately and gave Daniel a stern and lengthy reprimand. 

The puppy dog eyes worked this time, though, and she took him down to her office with a resigned sigh.  "The Colonel'll be happy," she muttered.  "But let's keep you out of the General's sight just to be on the safe side, huh, boy?"

Daniel behaved himself all day and the next morning Sam loaded him into her car and took him to work with her as if it were the most common thing in the world.

And, yes, the ants gave the peanut butter-covered milk bone just the perfect spicy seasoning.

***

The Colonel was having entirely too much fun, Sam decided.  Every day when she left the Mountain at 1700 hours sharp, he managed to find a reason to stand smirking in her lab doorway, or the hallway, or the elevator...

"Carter!  Where ya goin'?" he'd ask, knowing the answer full well.  "Thought you had another two or three or five hours of work to do?"

She'd merely glare and say, "See you in the morning, sir."

The reason she kept such regular hours was sitting beside her right now in her Volvo's passenger seat, watching the passing city-scape with alert interest.  Lucky must have realized he was being watched; he lurched over toward her, slipping, his paw banging the gear shift, trying to lick her.  "No horseplay in the car, goofball," she warned with a laugh, pushing him back to his seat.  Sometimes he just didn't seem to know the limits of his own body.

Yes, a prompt schedule was a necessity when a 70 pound dog depended on you for food.  She fed him once in the morning before going to the mountain and once in the evening after work.  He had plenty of snacks during the day, most of it from the 'training treats' Jack and Teal'c plied him with as they put the dog through his paces.  Jack claimed Lucky was smarter than most of the base SFs.  Teal'c seemed more than half-serious when he recommended the clicker system, complete with crumbled milk bone treats, be used on the more slow-to-learn new recruits.

Tonight, however, things were not going quite as smoothly.  The Colonel had not been on hand to smirk at her, he had been debriefing the newly formed SG-14, and Sam had been running late after the debugging of a new cold-calling computer simulation had taken more time than she'd thought it would.

It was 1930 hours by the time Sam pulled into her driveway and she was hungry enough to fight Lucky for his raw hamburger meat.

"Patience, hungry guy." 

She'd surprised herself how easily she'd fallen into life with a pet.  Like all of SG-1, she had no social life outside of team nights.  It used to be that Daniel would come by of an evening, but somehow he'd fallen out of the habit.

Lucky leaped and licked as she unlocked the front door, bounding into the house in excitement, then doubling back to her immediately for second stage leaping and licking.

“Who’s my sweet doggy?” Sam said, scratching him behind the ears, then laughing at her own words.  God, she was turning into one of those crazy women who treated their dogs like substitute children, spoiling them rotten with treats and hundreds of dollars-worth of ridiculous toys and accessories.  Next thing you know, she'd be working on a "Dog Bless This Home" cross-stitch pattern.

Lucky promptly disappeared into the backyard to do his business.  Was there such a thing as a shy dog?  She'd yet to have to ask the Colonel to pick up any droppings from the yard.  When any of her fellow dog owners commiserated about cleanup duty, she just shrugged.  She wasn't about to question her good fortune, whether it was a personal idiosyncrasy of Lucky's or due to his alien origin.

She'd also noticed he never stayed in the bedroom when she was getting dressed in the morning and always wandered away when she changed in the evening, only returning at bedtime.  Maybe he was on patrol; he did seem to take his protection of her seriously.

Before she started Lucky's meal, she put a frozen dinner into the oven for herself.  Her cell phone rang just as her set the temperature.  It was Graham Simmons, wanting her advice on how to access the simulation they'd been working on from his own computer.  She left the kitchen, going to her laptop to access a document she kept for just such occasions.  Lucky nudged her, tangling her legs as she walked.  "No, Lucky.  You'll have to wait.  It won't be long."

With an almost accusing glare at her cell phone, Lucky slunk back into the kitchen.  Sam continued on through the living room, into her study.  Between firing up the computer and talking the Lieutenant through some steps, it took a good half an hour to finish up.  When she flipped the phone shut and came back into the kitchen, Sam had a messy surprise waiting for her.  The dog had gotten into her chocolate stash, consuming some of the expensive Belgium bars Daniel had given her at Christmas.  There was torn foil and paper everywhere, with blobs of melted chocolate smeared on the floor.

"Damn it," she muttered, picking up the ripped wrappers and tossing them in the garbage.  She couldn't really blame the dog.  Well, at least she _shouldn't_ really blame the dog.  It wasn't his fault he was so hungry.  But she wished he hadn't chosen something that was irreplaceable to destroy--  No, not irreplaceable.  Daniel would be back and she'd ask for a truck-load of chocolate next Christmas.

Where was the miscreant anyhow?  The backdoor flap sounded.  "Lucky!"

He plodded slowly into the kitchen, guilt written in every cringing move he made. 

"You know you're bad, don't you?"

He sunk down to crouch on the linoleum floor, head low. 

"Aw, little boy."  She stroked his head.  "I'm sorry.  I know you're hungry--"

The next instant she drew back in alarm as the dog jerked, retching, then threw up a reeking chocolaty mess, foil and wrapper pieces sprinkled festively throughout.  He swallowed convulsively, licking his chops and blinking.

"Oh, yuck, boy," Sam stated.  "Serves you right, but why am I the one stuck with cleanup duty?"  Her cell rang again.  Juggling phone and mop she muttered, "I swear, if it's Graham again..."  She flipped it open.  "Hello!" she snapped.

"Well, a cheery good evening to you too, Carter."

"Oh.  Hello, sir.  Sorry, I'm a little busy."

"Busy?  With what?  Anything to do with leaving the Mountain so late?"

"Sir, are you checking up on me?"

"That's my job as a compassionate caring C.O.  So what's up?"

"Oh, Lucky threw up and I'm mopping the kitchen.  He got into my chocolate stash."

"Chocolate?"

"It's really my fault.  I'm late feeding him and--"

"Wait.  How much did he eat?"

She wondered at his suddenly serious tone, but answered easily, "Quite a bit, I think, but it's okay, there's more where that came from."

"Carter, chocolate is toxic to dogs."

"What?"

"It's poison to them.  Exactly how much did he eat?  And what kind?"

"It's--I--three or four bars I think; that fancy Belgium stuff Daniel gave me for Christmas."

"That's dark chocolate, right?  The semi-sweet kind?"

"Yes."

"Crap.  Not good.  The more pure the chocolate, the worse it is."

"God, sir--”

"Carter, it's probably okay.  He's a big dog."

"But what--sir, what should I do?"

"Meet me at the vet's."

"At this hour?"

"I'll call Henry right now.  If he's not available, someone else will be."

Sam was silent, staring at the prone dog.

"Carter!  Just get Lucky there, we'll take care of it, okay?"

"Yes.  Yes, sir, I'll be there."

The phone clicked as the Colonel hung up and for a second Sam continued to stare at the dog, frozen.

Lucky was her last link to Daniel.  If he died...

What?  What was she thinking?  Superstition?  She was a scientist.  She clamped down on her thoughts, her emotions, and concentrated on the duties she needed to perform.

"Lucky, heel.  C'mon, let's go."

She put one of the chocolate bar wrappers in her pocket in case the vet needed to see it, and led the wobbly dog out of the kitchen, grabbing a big plastic garbage bag as she went.  At the car, she put the plastic flat on the floor of the passenger side foot-well first, then helped Lucky lie down on top of it, so any vomit wouldn't get on the carpeting.  This was a practical thing to do.  A logical thing.  Something a scientist would do, because scientists were practical and never let emotion cloud their thinking.

She met Colonel O'Neill at the vet's, Henry Gore having arrived just before them, unlocking the doors as he waved them over.

She showed Henry the wrappers, and estimated the amount of chocolate ingested.  She watched as the vet induced further vomiting in the shivering, cringing dog.  She watched as the vet took Lucky's vitals and pronounced him not in danger: the initial vomiting probably got rid of most of what he'd eaten, and the amount of theobromine he'd consumed compared to the ratio of his overall body size was negligible.  She should take her dog home, give him plenty of liquids and a small amount of his usual food.

So Sam nodded calmly, thanked the vet, and did that.

An hour later found her sitting on her living room couch with a subdued Lucky resting quietly at her feet.

Jack, who had followed her in his truck, came in from the kitchen.  "Well, your TV dinner's a loss.  I'm suggesting cold cereal for supper at this point."

Sam blinked at him.  "TV dinner?"

"Your Lean Cuisine thingy?  It's over-cooked."

"I forgot to turn off the oven," she stated.

"Yeah."

"I forgot."

"Carter?"

"I tried to think of everything, but I can't predict what an animal might do."

"No, of course you can't.  No one's expecting you to."

"But I need to.  How can I keep him safe?  How can I keep him alive?"  She knew she was being unreasonable, almost hysterical, and in front of her C.O., but she couldn't stop.

"Carter, hey, it's okay.  You're new to this; you're doing great.  I checked for poisonous plants that first night you brought him home, but I didn't think about chocolate."  Jack gave a little laugh.  “Looks like we’ve traded one chocoholic for another, huh?”

Sam knew he meant Daniel and her eyes filled as she struggled to maintain her composure.  "This is unacceptable."  She wiped angrily at her eyes.  “Daniel is out there somewhere and I’m crying over an animal…”

Jack gripped her shoulder.  “Carter, your heart’s big enough for both.”

He embraced her as tears turned to sobs.  She was half-aware of Lucky getting up and slinking from the room, head low and tail tucked between his legs.

When you give your heart to someone, when you give your heart away, you lose control.  Even to an animal, a pet.  Sam couldn't afford to be that vulnerable.  Even as she sobbed, she renewed her vow to never reveal her true feelings to Daniel.

***

Daniel let Sam coax him into her bedroom to sleep that night, but only after he was sure Jack had gone home.

God, he felt horrible.  Not physically; the sick feeling the chocolate gave him was pretty much gone.  But emotionally.  Getting jealous that Sam was talking to a co-worker, being so stupid as to get himself sick, upsetting Sam.  Then having to watch Jack comfort her, wishing it were him.  But how could it be?  She wouldn't need comforting if it wasn't for him.  Giving them privacy had been the least he could do.

He wasn't sure if Jack's hug had led to anything more, but regardless, the team leader had gone for the night and Daniel took up his post on the floor at the foot of Sam's bed.

Tonight, Sam dropped off immediately into sleep, clearly exhausted.  Daniel heaved a sigh, too hyper to sleep himself, probably because of the caffeine in the chocolate.  He dozed fitfully until something suddenly woke him to full alertness.  He occasionally sensed the Dark One come close at night and now he instinctively checked on it.  He saw a jet black astral pseudo-pod extending toward Sam’s aura, probably trying to influence her dreams in the same way it had tricked her off the path on '931.

[ ](http://s71.photobucket.com/albums/i121/PattRose1/A%20Dogs%20Life/?action=view&current=page42evil2.jpg)

Daniel jumped up to the foot of Sam's bed, barking loudly, waking her up.  The Dark One withdrew with an almost audible snap, and Sam sleepily, if condescendingly, praised 'Lucky' for keeping her safe.

The next day eating breakfast in the SGC's commissary with Jack and Teal’c, Sam gulped her coffee, saying, “Lucky woke me up last night barking.  I was having this weird dream, someone offering me something...?  Well, whatever it was, Lucky woke me up.  He kinda creeped me out though.  He was up on the bed, staring straight at the ceiling, snarling and growling like crazy."

"Rats?" Jack asked around a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

Sam grimaced.  "Absolutely not, sir."

Smirking, Jack said, "Well, old Great-Gramps Coventry always said dogs can see ghosts."

As Sam laughed, Daniel wondered if that was possible.  Maybe the ease he had viewing the spirit plane was because of a dog's basic nature.  He gave a mental shrug.


	5. Provocation

The next Saturday, Sam opened her garage door and wheeled her prized possession out.  A 1931 Indian 101 Scout motorcycle.  Daniel knew that because Sam had proudly told him so in the past.  Not that it meant the slightest thing to him, although he could tell it was old by how large it was compared to the sleek little modern bikes of today.  It had big handlebars and the seat was a utilitarian piece of molded laminate, mounted up high on shocks.

[ ](http://s71.photobucket.com/albums/i121/PattRose1/A%20Dogs%20Life/?action=view&current=samsbike.jpg)

Sam spent some time tinkering, priming the bike to running condition.  As Daniel circled around and around it, sniffing at the metallic, oily scents, jumping when Sam clanked something unexpectedly, she spoke absentmindedly to Daniel, telling him of her plans to drive up to Balanced Rock for a few hours.

Ah, Balanced Rock Recreation Area, specifically the off-road driving trails.  Or, as Jack dubbed it, Balanced Deathtrap Recreation Area.  He claimed all those speeding bikes were an accident waiting to happen.  Sam never admitted to going there, but equally, Daniel realized now, she never claimed to _not_ go there.

Sam had told Daniel in the past that sometimes she just needed to…drive.  To exist in the moment, to stop thinking.  Some kind of Zen-motorcycle thing.  She’d ridden a lot after Jolinar, and after she heard about her dad's cancer diagnosis, and after she saved her dad's life, only to lose him to the Tok'ra.

Sure, she was worried about Daniel, he knew that, but he couldn't believe his absence alone could lead to the same kind of mental anguish as those other events.  Maybe something else was bothering her.  Had she and Jack argued?

Tinkering done, Sam cleaned up and prepared to leave.  Wow, she looked amazing in leather and denim... 

He shook his head to clear it, ears flapping.  He needed to concentrate.  His job was protection, not gawking.  Daniel sat up on the couch at the living room's picture window, watching as Sam gave him a grin and a wave, then sped away.

He kept watch in the other dimension, as he always did whenever he and Sam were separated.  He saw the Dark One slide across the sky, following Sam.  That was expected.  It always followed Sam.  But this time it dove down much lower that it typically did.

With the dream-influencing incident of the other night, it seemed like the entity was upping the ante.  Had Daniel's foolish mistake with the chocolate emboldened it?  Regardless, it was making some kind of move now, and Daniel was not going to allow it.

He slipped out the dog door and, going through his secret hole under the fence, he took off.  He ran hard, stopping to check on the Dark One's location occasionally, but mostly just eating the distance.  He knew where Balanced Rock was.  And the fastest route was fortunately the most direct, for a dog on foot anyway: cross-country, no roads or dog-catchers to avoid.

In less than an hour, Daniel was in the Rec Area, right on the other side of the valley from the 'Deathtrap' off-road section.  With a shower of purple flowers Daniel burst through a last lupine, panting hard in the breeze, and looking with his inner eye.  He could see the auras of individuals throughout the valley, most of them on motorbikes.  Using multiple trails, they splashed through the creek, and climbed and descended the valley walls.

He found Sam easily as he was so in-tune with her.  The path she sped along was a downhill run, taking the hillside at an angle.  From the looks of things, other paths seemed to be for uphill only.  In fact, the place seemed well-run, regardless of Jack's opinion: drivers should be as safe as their skill allowed.  Sam drove at a good clip, but since no one was coming uphill on her trail, she should be okay.

So she was in no danger from Earthy sources.  However, up above the valley, unseen by all but Daniel, the Dark One hung like an angry storm cloud.  What was it doing?  Its tendril dipped and spun like the tight funnel of an astral tornado.  It touched and withdrew from one individual after another, one biker after another, sampling, searching...  For what?  The perfect subject?

From his side, Daniel tore down to the base of the valley, dodging and twisting through scrub oak and horsebrush, running at breakneck speed.  He hit the valley floor and crossed the shallow stream in a spray of chilly springtime water, then stopped and checked again.

Higher up on Sam’s hill, the Dark One had apparently found it's perfect subject: it had latched on to a rider, the tendril thickening, the rider’s aura polluted, the Suss'risa using him like a marionette master.

Slipping back into the real world, Daniel ran all out, trying to see the real Sam up on the trail.

There!  Obscured behind brush and pine tree trunks, she wended her way swiftly down the muddy track, concentrating with singleminded intentness, dodging puddles, ducking under low hanging boughs.  The Dark One's puppet was easy to see.  He had gone off-trail completely.  Unnoticed by Sam, the rider plowed directly downhill toward her, leaves and twigs flying.

No time to go up the trail to reach Sam, even if he knew where the trailhead was, he needed to get to her _now_.

He hit the bottom of the hill, registered where Sam should be in another few minutes and tore through the damp underbrush, angling to meet her.

The other rider angled to meet her too.  Like a guided missile, he would be coming down right on top of her off the path’s uphill overhang.  Daniel needed to get onto the trail in front of Sam to stop her, or it was all for nothing.

Pushing himself as hard as he could, he burst through the brush at last, dark red manzanita twigs flying, the roar of an engine bearing down on him from the left.

Several things happened at once.  Mud flying, Sam's bike braked, swerved, but most importantly, slowed.  Almost immediately, the other bike came plowing through the brush on the overhang, diving down to Sam's trail, landing where she would've been if she hadn't braked just seconds earlier.

Daniel cringed, dodging, and both bikes missed him.  Sam, by inches in front of his nose as she roared past.  The other rider just a couple feet to his right as the airborne bike splashed down.  It landed upright, but immediately spun-out, skidding through a puddle to smash tires-first against the gnarled bole of a juniper, thick needles raining down.

Sam fishtailed, mud arcing as she came to a stop just beyond the downed bike.  She jumped off and let her bike tip over to rest against the dirt wall of the path's overhang, running back up the path.

The other rider flailed on the ground, trying to get out from under his bike.  When Sam reached him, she lifted his dirt bike up enough for him to crawl out.  He stood and took his helmet off revealing a young man of around twenty.  He looked around wildly.  "Damn, dude!" he said to Sam.  "What happened?"

"Well, you almost landed on top of me," Sam replied, panting, but speaking calmly.  "If I hadn't braked because a certain dog jumped out in front of me."  She looked sharply at Daniel.  "Lucky!  Get over here!"  She slapped her thigh and Daniel trotted over exuding an air of innocence.

The young man rubbed his head, getting mud in his shoulder-length blond hair, glancing from Sam to Daniel to his own bike, trying to put the sequence of events together in his confusion.  "Dude.  If you hadn't slowed down, I would've been right on top of you..."  He shook his head.  "I don't understand what I was thinking.  I don't even remember going off trail, I don't do that, I've never done that!"  The kid looked honestly upset and Daniel wished he could've explained that it wasn't really his fault.

Sam rubbed the young man's arm.  "Did you hit your head today maybe?  You may've blacked out."

"I--well, I did take a spill a few minutes ago, but I didn't think it was that bad..."

"Sit down," she ordered.  "Let me take a look at your pupils."

Two other young men roared up from down-trail and jumped off their bikes.  "Steve!" one shouted.  "Damn, dude!  Why'd you go off-trail!?"

During the ensuing discussion of Steve and his extremely un-cool driving habits, Daniel took a quick peek at the astral plane, and found the Dark One had withdrawn, vibrating in a tight sullen little ball high overhead.

"Well, your pupils are reacting properly," Sam pronounced.  "But that doesn't mean--"

"Damn, dude!  Is that an Indian Scout!?"

This last was directed at Sam.  "Um, yeah..." she responded.

"Dude!  Cherry!"

Daniel's lip began to curl and quiver, and he worked to control his annoyance.  There followed a long conversation in which the words 'disassemble', 'rebuilt' and 'wicked' featured largely.  Just about the time Daniel decided no punishment of Sam's could offset the joy of chomping down on the next person to utter the word ‘dude,’ Sam threw her leg over her bike, and blissfully cut off the conversation.  "Okay, guys.  Promise me you’ll take him to see a doctor."

"Yeah.  No problemo.  We're on it."

Then, incredibly, Sam patted her cycle's gas tank between her legs.  "C'mon, Lucky!  Hop up!"

Daniel's ears flattened and he cringed low.

"I don't know how you got here,” Sam stated, “but if you want to go home, hop on up."  He dodged as Sam reached for him.  "Lucky, don't be a baby.  Guys?  A little help?"

No.  No ‘dude’ would touch him-- 

A pair of leather-gloved hands plucked him up as he tried to dash away, and his trembling body, tail tucked firmly between legs, was deposited on the tank.  Daniel scrabbled for purchase as Sam wrapped one arm around him.

"Damn, little dude!  Don't scratch the finish!"

"Can you guys get a couple bungee cords from the pannier?"  By interlocking two cords, the guys helped Sam tie Daniel to her chest, using the bungees like a seat belt.

Every now and then in the past Sam had offered to take Daniel on a motorcycle ride.  He had always turned her down.  He fervently pledged to continue to turn her down in the future.

Sam was quiet that evening, as she hosed her bike and her dog clean before taking a shower herself.  By 9 p.m. they were cuddled up on the living room couch, Sam stroking Daniel's fur thoughtfully.  "You always seem to show up when I need you, don't you boy?" she murmured.

Daniel just blinked sleepily at her, then rested his head in her lap with a satisfied huff.

***

Daniel had been overhearing talk of the reduced SG-1's first mission for a few days now.  Without their fourth and with Sam recovering from an injury, it was sure to be a milk-run.  But with an angry transdimensional cloud of evilness hovering over you, even a milk-run could be dangerous.

The day of the mission dawned without Daniel having any clear idea of what he could do to either prevent Sam from going, or get them to let him tag along.  Stopping her seemed hopeless; he supposed he could arrange to re-break her arm, but that seemed counterproductive in the long run.

SG-1's plan seemed to be to leave 'Lucky' on base under the care of Sgt. Siler.  Siler loved dogs and always had time for Daniel when Sam was busy.  In fact, if it wasn't for the Dark One, it sounded like a lot of fun.  But it was 'fun' Sam couldn't afford.

At the moment he was simply being as quiet and obedient and non-noticeable as possible as he followed Sam around through her morning routine and mission gear-up.  When SG-1 convened in the Gateroom no one had even thought to put his leash on.  As the Gate dialed Siler came over to where Sam was petting 'Lucky' goodbye.

"Now, you're sure it was _organic_ beef you got, right?" Sam asked Siler.

This was at least the fifth time Sam had asked this, but the veteran sergeant merely gazed at her phlegmatically.  "Yes, ma'am."

"Yes, Major," Jack said with exaggerated patience, manhandling Sam to her feet and aiming her at the Stargate.  "The nice sergeant bought the most expensive meat he could find and it's organic as all-get-out."

Sam frowned but allowed herself to be guided up the ramp after the wormhole had engaged.  Teal'c went through first.  As Sam gave him a little wave, Daniel concentrated on the spirit world.  The Dark One was there, like an afterimage burned into your eyes that no amount of blinking could get rid of.  And when Sam went through the Gate, it plunged in after her.

Daniel acted immediately.  Not giving anyone time to react, he darted from Siler's side, past Jack, up the ramp and through the wormhole.  The string of obscenities Jack began spouting on Earth continued without pause as the team leader burst out of the wormhole on Daniel's tail.  The tail which Daniel promptly tucked between his legs as he cowered behind Sam's legs, using her as a shield.

The innocent air of P1K-564 blistered under Jack's verbal assault until Teal'c's calm voice cut him off.  "I believe the addition of Lucky to this mission can only be to our advantage.  As he proved on P3S-931, he is an asset to our team."

Sam, recovering from her surprise, jumped in immediately before Jack could re-group.  "Colonel, you've trained him so well, I'm sure he'll be no trouble at all.  Lucky, sit!"

Daniel sat.  His guileless gaze met with Teal'c's equanimity, Sam's enthusiasm and Jack's waning anger.

Jack pointed a finger at Daniel.  "You will obey every command.  If you set one paw out of line, I will throw you in the wormhole backwash myself."

"Colonel!" Sam chided, giving her C.O. an outraged glare.

"Well, maybe not the backwash, ya know, but the wormhole itself..."

Teal'c joined Sam in a glower of disapproval.  Innocuous eyes wide, Daniel blinked up at Jack.

Jack threw his hands up.  "Okay, okay!  Three against one."  He marched off to the DHD, muttering, "I really need them to put 'Colonel' somewhere on my uniform."  He dialed Earth and informed a testy General Hammond that SG-1 was keeping the dog.

"Tell Siler I'm sorry!" Sam called out.  She ruffled Daniel's ears.  "C'mon boy, let's go exploring!"

Nothing much happened the first day.  P1K-564 had no people and no animals big enough to threaten anyone.  Nothing but low-growing scrub, insects, and small mammals.  It was basically a barren landscape, the perfect location for a mining operation.  SG-1's job was to confirm the presence of trinium deposits, a challenge suited to a recovering Sam, easy patrols for Jack and Teal'c, no linguist/archeologist needed.  Basically an overnight camp-out.

Daniel behaved himself impeccably, suffering through gloating on Jack's and even Teal'c's part over the success of their dog training. (Although why Jack thought his being able to ‘shake’ would be of any use on a typical SGC mission, he wasn’t sure...)  He stayed at Sam's side all day as she moved from site to site, watching her sift dirt and mutter about impurities.  They gradually moved up the side of the rocky mountain the 'Gate stood next to.

[ ](http://s71.photobucket.com/albums/i121/PattRose1/A%20Dogs%20Life/?action=view&current=everyoneminustealc.jpg)

At camp that night Sam sighed.  "Hate to say it, sir, but I don't think SG-7 was on to much here."

"No shiny stuff?"

"Trace amounts, nothing that warrants even strip-mining.  I'll try closer to that creek we saw over the ridge tomorrow, but I don't think we'll find anything."

"Well, at least we got a campfire out of it."  Jack poked at the cheery flames.  "And Lucky got a field trip."  When Daniel looked over at him, Jack seemed to remember that he was supposed to be mad at the dog.  "Although I don't know what he's going to eat.  We didn't pack that fancy beef, ya know, boy.  You shoulda stayed with Siler."

"We can share our MREs with him, sir," Sam offered.

"No way, Major," Jack ordered.  "He wanted to come, he can hunt his own food."

Again his subordinates stared with disapproval, but Jack was adamant.  "Eat up, you two."

Daniel slipped away soon after that, going out into the dimly lit night and let his canine instincts take over, his nose alert for the slightest scent, his ears picking up the tiniest underground vibrations.  It was kind of fun actually.  It was even more fun to hear Jack yelp with horror when Daniel trotted up and deposited a half-chewed gopher-like rodent on his team leader's lap.

"Damn it!"  Jack jumped up, spilling his coffee.  "What the hell--?"

"Lucky was just sharing, sir," Sam observed innocently.

Looking wounded at Jack's ingratitude, Daniel picked up the gopher, sat down beside Sam, and dug in to his 'Meal, Ready to Eat.'  It was a little dirty, but what's wrong with an earthy taste to spice things up?

With a surfeit of dignity, Jack took his time brushing off his pants.  "All right," he said calmly.  "On that note, it's time to turn in.  Lucky, you are not allowed in any tent.  The Quartermaster will kill me if he finds bloody rat entrails in our gear."

Sam peered down at the animal quickly disappearing down Daniel's gullet.  "I don't think it's a rat, sir.  It looks more like some kind of ground burrowing--"

"Whatever!  Teal'c, you're on first watch.  I'll take second.  Carter and Lucky, third."

Sam yawned through a grin.  "Yes, sir.  I actually am pretty tired."

"Hey, medical leave will do that.  We'll have you back up to speed in no time."

Sam wasn't exaggerating about being tired.  She crawled into her tent immediately after pitching it and, from Daniel's post outside the entrance, he heard her breathing pattern relax into sleep within a minute.

Jack and Teal'c stayed up a little longer, tidying the camp and banking the fire.  When they heard the little tell-tale snore that Sam always denied she made, the two men exchanged a glance.

"Lucky made this night much more tolerable than it would otherwise have been," Teal'c stated.  "I had thought to ask for his participation but did not believe General Hammond would agree."

"Yeah, the same thought crossed my mind," Jack said.  "With Daniel gone..."  He trailed off, then shook his head and poured the dregs of his coffee onto the ground, brushing dirt over the damp patch with his boot.  Walking past Sam's tent, he stopped to crouch down and give Daniel a good ear-scratching.  "Good job, big guy," he whispered.

Daniel gave him a lick and Jack continued on into the tent he and Teal'c were sharing.  Settling back down, Daniel wondered why they felt the need to exclude Sam from a conversation about SG-1's missing fourth.

***

The mission's second day was a bit more exciting.  As Sam had said, she wanted to take samples from the creek bed one ridge over, so SG-1 carefully picked their way down a steep slate-covered slope, the flat stones clattering and sliding underfoot.  In the rocky little valley, Jack and Teal'c alternated perfunctory patrols with giving Sam a hand with her chemical tests.

Daniel was bored and restless, but steadfastly behaved himself.  He refused to make his teammates regret letting him stay with them.  Sniffing at a bubbling chemical reaction in one of Sam's test tubes, he suddenly felt a strange vibration.  He jerked his head up, his hackles rising, on full alert as he sniffed and listened, trying to figure out what he was sensing.

He was peripherally aware of Sam looking up curiously, and Jack asking, "What's up, Lucky?" from behind him.  His ears twitched, but he ignored both of them.  Something was going on further up the mountain.  Something...strange; something he'd never felt before.  Like a shifting of the earth, but the ground hadn't moved and no one else seemed to notice anything...

He switched over to view the spirit world and saw something very odd.  The Dark One was up on the mountain, up _in_ the mountain: it had somehow stretched out, encompassing the stony mountain top, infiltrating deep into the rock.  Daniel concentrated, trying to comprehend what it was doing.  Its form was fractured and divided, following a thousand cracks and crevices, a thousand fault lines. 

Fault lines...

Daniel blinked, coming back to the real world with a sudden baying howl.  It _was_ an earthquake.  He didn't know exactly what he'd sensed that the others didn't, or why the ground wasn't moving yet, but somehow he knew the entity was triggering an earthquake.

And a tight little valley at the foot of a rocky mountain was an exceptionally bad place to be.

Jack had swung his P-90 around at Daniel's howl, but the military man couldn't see any danger.  Daniel jumped into action, barking wildly.  "Whoa, whoa!  Lucky, what's wrong?" Jack asked, but Daniel didn't stop.  He kept up the frantic barking, running up the slope they'd picked their way down just a couple hours earlier, turning and barking at them, then running up higher.

"Um, sir?"  Sam squinted up at the seemingly empty mountaintop that Daniel had been staring at so intently.

"Maybe we should humor him," Jack said slowly.  He gave Sam a hand up from where she crouched beside her field kit.  Sam paused, looking at her wide-spread equipment.  "Leave it," Jack ordered.  "We'll come back for it later."  The two officers jogged over toward the base of the ridge, following Daniel who continued to climb and bark. 

Jack triggered his radio.  "Teal'c, what's your position?"

"My patrol has taken me to our camp of last night," came the answer.

"Come back and meet us at the top of the ridge.  Lucky's going crazy.  Seemed like he saw or heard something further up the mountain."

"Very well, O'Neill.  I am on my way."

Jack, Sam and Daniel were halfway up the ridge when the 'quake struck.  The two humans were knocked from their feet, sliding back down the shale slope several yards as they scrambled for handholds on the loose rock.  Daniel kept his feet, dancing to avoid rolling rocks, barking harder than ever to urge his teammates on.

"Sir--!"

"Keep going, Carter!  Don't stop!"  Jack was rearmost, but he had halted his slide and both he and Sam crawled stubbornly upwards on all fours.

As fast as it had stuck, the shaking was over.  But the team had no time to celebrate: the earthquake's grinding rumble had ceased, but a new rumble replaced it.  It built up low, then burst into a deafening roar, like a dozen freight trains passing through the little canyon below them.

It was a landslide, inundating the creek bed, eradicating it.  A choking plume of dust and debris rose as boulders, some as big as Death Gliders, some bigger, careened downhill, many bouncing up to hit the ridge-side SG-1 clung to, undercutting it, causing the shale to slide again, trying to join the rocky mass flowing downstream below it.

Jack was shouting again, but neither Sam nor Daniel could hear his words.  They didn't need to.  All they could do was climb.  Even if climbing merely enabled them to stay level, the slate pavers cascaded down in a slide of their own, spinning and tumbling under their frantic feet.  There was no way to help one another, all they could do was to keep going, to keep moving.  With panic-driven strength the three scrabbled and clawed, gaining two feet, losing one, but moving up slowly, rising, gaining height, slipping, digging in, chips and slivers of broken stone raining down on them, the ground shuddering and vibrating like a live thing under hands and feet and paws, an endless maelstrom of dust and stone and thunderous sound.

Then the roar was fading, the ground settling, the climb easing.  Coughing and spitting dust, blinking grit from their eyes, the three gathered together, Jack angling back over from where he had branched off to avoid Sam's backwash of falling stones.  They stopped and looked back, all panting hard, Sam's scraped hands, bleeding and shaky, griping Daniel's harness.

The rocky little valley was filled in.  It was a jumbled rock-scape, the creek bed and Sam's equipment buried deep under hundreds of freshly chipped and pitted boulders, dusty smoke still rising, the occasional groan and crack of strained stone snapping in the air, the heat generated from the violent earth movement warming their faces.

"Holy..." Sam began.

"Buckets," Jack finished.

"Buhf," Daniel agreed, and sneezed hard.

Jack's radio crackled.  "O'Neill!  What is your status?  O'Neill!  Respond!"  They could hear that Teal'c was running hard, but that alone didn't account for the stress in his voice.

Jack triggered his radio, clearing his throat and spitting again.  "Slow down, T.  You missed the party.  We're all fine.  Meet you at the top of the ridge."

After a long pause Teal'c answered shortly, "Understood."  It was clear that he had not slowed down at all.

"Okay," Jack said with a deep breath.  "Fingers, toes?  All present and accounted for?"

Sam and Jack both checked over Daniel before inspecting themselves.  Daniel could have told them he was unharmed, but appreciated their concern.

"A few little cuts, but he looks okay," Sam confirmed.  She checked her hands as Jack did the same for himself.  "Um, sir?  I broke a nail."

Jack looked over at her in disbelief, then rolled his eyes at her grin.  "Yeah, well I think I broke all ten of mine."

There was a clatter of stone and Teal'c appeared at the top of the ridge.  After taking in the scene before him, his eyes dark with concern he rarely showed, he came down to join them, making sure any stones he caused to roll missed them.  "Are you all able to walk?"

"Yeah, thanks to Lucky," Jack said.  He patted Daniel's head solemnly.  "Lucky, from now on, you can dump as many dead rats on me as you want."

~I'll hold you to that, Jack.~

They started back up the ridge, Teal'c helping to steady them.

"Sir," Sam said.  "Do you know what this means?"

"That we're lucky to be alive?"

"No.  Well, yes, we are.  Well, actually, I guess it wasn't luck so much as foresight in allowing Lucky to join us--"

"Carter."

"Sorry.  But what I meant was, Lucky actually sensed the 'quake.  There's been speculation for years, centuries really, about whether animals could predict earthquakes.  Lucky just proved it.  Somehow dogs can sense P-waves."

"P-waves?"

"'P' for Primary.  The Secondary waves are the destructive ones, what we call earthquakes.  But humans can't detect P-waves without instruments.  Think of the good a reliable early warning system could do.  With earthquakes, seconds count."

"Tell me about it."

Sam apparently took this comment as an order and regaled her teammates with theories and suppositions all the way back to the Stargate.  Jack, for once, didn't object to the technobabble, their brush with disaster mellowing him considerably.  When SG-1 stepped through the Gate an hour later, arriving at the SGC in a cloud of dust and dirt, Jack flung his arms out and shouted, "Siler!  Break out the raw beef!  It's party-time!"


	6. Dogfight

SG-1 was on stand-down again and Daniel loved every second of it.  Jack and Sam, their hands scraped raw in the flight up the ridge, were on reduced duties until the cuts healed.  Relaxing while his nemesis sulked, Daniel enjoyed days that held more play than work, and evenings of fun, some quiet with just Sam, some raucous with the whole team.

He was feeling pretty cocky.  He couldn't help it.  Despite his pledge to himself to not get overconfident, it seemed that as long as he kept his eyes open, he really could thwart just about anything the Dark One threw at him.

One afternoon, despite her hands being all but healed, Sam took the opportunity of leaving the Mountain early.  After going home to change, she asked Daniel, “Wanna go for a walk, Lucky?"

Daniel jumped in approval.

Sam laughed.  "Oh, yeah, you know that word."

~Yeah, Sam, that one and about a couple million more.~

Daniel wasn't sure what Sam's ultimate destination was, but she parked at the edge of the Spring's downtown area and they set out, skirting the more crowded streets.  As she walked, she pulled her cell phone out.  After she hit the speed-dial, Daniel's sharp ears easily heard Jack answer.

"Hey, Carter."

"Hello, sir.  Finally figured out your caller ID, did you?"

"Yes, Carter, I did finally figure out my caller ID, thank you very much," came the petulant answer.

Sam grinned.  "You said you wanted to take a look at that new dog park on Spruce.  Do you want to meet us?"

"Sure.  I'm on my way out of the Mountain right now.  You there yet?"

"No, I wanted to let Lucky burn off a little energy first, so I parked on Grand and we're walking the rest of the way.  We're just passing the old warehouse district now."

"So, Carter, how’s it feel, knowing you'll have the best looking dog in the group?”

She laughed.  “Good, sir.”

“And the best looking date?”

Too bad dogs can’t roll their eyes.  Daniel resigned himself to a shake of his head as he trotted.

“Um, whatever you say, sir.”

"See you there, Carter."

"Bye, sir."

Sam snapped her cell shut.  As she slipped it into her bag, she steered herself and Daniel over to the side of the walkway, making room for two men who approached them going the other way.  Despite this, as he passed, the larger of the men bumped his shoulder into Sam so hard she stumbled.

He stopped and grinned at her.  "Hey, Blondie, if you wanted my attention you could've just said so."

Sam righted herself, tugged tight at the leash as Daniel surged forward, his hackles bristling.  Who the hell would be stupid enough to hassle a tall, fit woman with a 70 pound pit bull?  Sam's face was carefully stony as she said, "I don't want your attention.  Excuse me."

The man stepped into Sam's personal space, blocking her, his grin growing into a leer.  "Maybe I want your attention, sweet-thing."

Daniel's growl filled the street, which was empty save for the two groups.  Sam had chosen a roundabout path for her walk to the park, probably thinking of exercise rather than safety, but the route through the old warehouse district in the late afternoon may have been a mistake in retrospect: many of the antiquated buildings stood empty and the weed-choked street was completely deserted.

The big man's friend, who carried a grocery bag filled with what looked like beer, nudged his arm.  "C'mon, leave it.  Let's get back."

The man held his ground for another moment, then backed off.  "Yeah, let's get back," he agreed, but as he said it, he looked directly at Daniel.  Then he turned and led his friend down a side alley.  "Let's take a shortcut."

The man had looked at Daniel so oddly.  There was something wrong about him, something familiar...  As Sam tried to tug Daniel into motion, he resisted, switching his vision to the spirit plane.  The man and his friend were already out of sight, apparently running down the alley if their fast-moving auras were anything to go by.  The beer-toting friend seemed unremarkable, but the big man who accosted Sam...  His aura revealed a corruption even worse than the one that had infected Steve the biker dude: polluted streaks of black ran deep, curling and probing.  Daniel followed the dark threads up, up into the sky where the puppet master floated, heavy with malice.

Daniel took off so suddenly that the leash whipped right out of Sam's hand.  He belatedly switched back to normal vision, skidding as he rounded the corner into the alley.  He instinctively paused when he heard Sam call for him, but with an effort he ignored her and forged on.  He couldn't let the Dark One go like this.  There was no telling what it would do to the man, or if it intended to continue to pursue Sam this afternoon.  Where was Jack when you needed him?

The side alley joined a larger one running between the rear entrances of several warehouses, a half filled drainage gutter flowing down the center of the narrow road.  He slowed and sniffed, unsure which way the men had gone, the heavy industrial smells confusing his nose, the slanting afternoon sun dazzling his eyes.  A flash of movement caught his eye, and he sped off, splashing through the gutter, dashing down another side alley.  It was empty so he kept going.  Passing yet another side branch, he turned and followed it, thinking he'd caught a whiff of the man.  Empty again.  How was he moving so fast?  Never mind, all that mattered was catching up and forcing the Dark One out.  Somehow.  It seemed like the thing was getting better at influencing people--

Heading toward the far end of the alley, Daniel was taken by surprise when a shape jumped out from a door recess, snatching up his trailing leash.  The reinforced nylon held firm and Daniel was wrenched to a sudden stop, breath knocked out of him so hard he couldn't even yelp.

"Caught you."

Too stunned to struggle, Daniel didn’t resist as the man took hold of him by the harness, forcing Daniel to walk as directed.

The other man, still clutching his beer, came huffing up.  “Shit!  Tino, you crazy, man!  That was risky.  I think that blond bitch was military.”

Tino shook his head, seeming a bit dazed.  “Yeah.  Can’t believe I did that."

Daniel risked a quick look at the spirit world.  The Dark One's influence was gone, but it still hovered overhead, watching.

"Well, turned out okay.  This bad boy is ours now, free and clear.  We use it tonight.  It survives, we train it up.  It don’t, no loss.”

Okaaay…  The Dark One’s influence was gone, so why was this guy still acting, well, dark?

"That bitch got a good look at you, man."

"How she gonna find me?  There a million people in this town."

~More like 400,000, asshole, and you bozos managed to pick exactly the wrong one to piss off.~  It was beginning to be obvious that regardless of the Dark One's influence, 'Tino' didn't need prompting when it came to criminal activity.  Any sympathy he'd felt for the man’s situation evaporated.

"How the hell you know where he'd be, anyhow?  It's like you knew he'd be down that alley."

"Not sure.  Guess I'm getting to be a real dogman."

'Dogman'?  And what did they mean by ‘training him up’?  Where had Daniel heard those phrases before?  Daniel had the sinking feeling this scenario had nothing to do with getting Sam herself, but rather as a way to get Daniel out of the way.  Well, he didn't know exactly what they had in mind, but if they thought they'd caught just another mild mannered pit bull, they were in for a surprise.  His canine impulses told him to submit to the humans who held him, but he had no intention of being taken away to who knows where.  He'd play nice and bide his time for a minute or two, get in a good juicy bite, then take off and find Sam.  These two wouldn't stand a chance against an on-her-guard Samantha Carter.

Daniel had set his sights on the end of the alley, getting ready to make his move, when three other men came around that corner into the alley.  They each had a leashed dog.  Tino and friend greeted them, then turned aside, going down yet another narrow walkway toward a featureless door.  He was distracted by the scents of not only many people having recently passed this way, but also many dogs.  The others came down the passage behind them, hemming him in.  At the door, Tino's friend called out, "Beer's here!"  The door opened and Daniel had no choice but to follow his dognappers into the warehouse.

Inside was a large chamber, echoing with the babble of human voices and the barking of dogs.  The smells were many and varied, but one in particular caught Daniel's attention: the smell of old blood.  He looked sharply around, zeroing in on what looked like an old piece of carpeting being unrolled in the center of the big room.  It was large and square and covered with dark stains.

Tino and his friend led Daniel off to one side.  There were portable kennels set up, some of them open and empty, some with dogs inside.  Some of the dogs were barking, some were silent.  Tino fixed Daniel's leash to the wall, with enough give to lie down, but not enough to wander.  The two men had other friends there and they passed the beer around, Tino answering questions about Daniel, pleased with himself and his coup.  At one traveling kennel, Tino greeted a dog by kicking its locked door grill.  "Hey, She-Ra, ready to kick ass, bitch?"  The dog lunged at the cage door, barking frantically.

"How's the betting?"

"Bad.  Home Boy fucked his paw up."

"'The fuck?"  Tino went to another cage and kicked it so hard it toppled over.  The silent dog within righted itself with a whimper, curling up.  "Piece a shit...  He don't fight, he don't eat."  The other men nodded matter-of-factly, paying no attention as Tino placed his foot against the kennel and shoved it so hard it slammed against the wall, its occupant yelping at the impact, then once again patiently curling up around its hurt paw.

“So we fight this one,” he said, gesturing at Daniel.

“You think he’s game?  What if he turns?”

“It costs, what, one-and-a-half K to raise a fighter?  We got this little fuck for free, so we bet 15 hundred, tell the ref he straight off the chain, see what happens."

The group agreed, exchanging cheerful fist-bumps.

"What he called?" one asked.

"Call him Brownie, cuz I got him from Blondie."  They all laughed as if this was the height of humor.

The dog fighting pit was being given its finishing touches, low plywood walls hammered roughly together, enclosing the bloodstained carpet, but Daniel didn't need this final proof of what he'd gotten himself into.  Hadn’t Dr. Gore warned of 'dogmen' who would steal pit bulls?  Now Daniel had landed right in the middle of this clandestine underworld, a world of which America was blissfully unaware.  The Dark One must have sensed Tino's nature and seized the opportunity of disposing of Daniel.  Even now it hovered overhead, pulsing with glee, eager for the denouement.

Daniel lay low, eyes and ears open, trying to figure a way out of this.  There was a carnival feel to the place that wasn’t affected in the least by a group of young men openly dealing drugs in a back corner, packets of white power being pressed into palms, rolls of bills disappearing into the pockets of baggy pants.  Daniel noticed quite a few guns tucked away in belts and pockets, and alcohol was everywhere.  The crowd was surprisingly mixed, what looked like well-dressed professionals rubbing shoulders with others pimped-out in all the bedazzling bling you'd expect from street punks.

Voices washed over him.  “Like Rampage's ears?  I cropped them myself.  Yeah, it's easy, you just use kitchen shears.”  "Nah, John's not fighting that black dog he had.  He got pissed it lost last month, dragged it behind his truck a couple miles and dumped in a field."  "Yo!  Reputations be made to _night_!  I badass and my dog 'gon prove it!"

A loud voice rang out over the tumult.  “Okay folks!  This contest will be starting soon.  You all know the rules?”

There was laughter and derisive hooting.  "Rules!?"  “Fuck your Cajun Rules!”  “This here be street fighting, man!”

The 'official' laughed with them.  “Yeah, nothing as complicated as _that_ , let's just fight!”

Everyone cheered.

Daniel tried to calm down and ignore the distinct smell of dried blood.  Tino and his buddies thought Sam was just some timid little nobody who'd call in a simple missing dog report.  But he knew better; she and Jack would be looking for him.  He just had to hang on.  They'd find him.  He knew they would.  They had to.

Daniel noticed he wasn't the only newcomer looking around in wonder.  There were a few children in the crowd, a boy about ten years old catching his eye.  The boy held tight to the leash of a brown and white pit bull that seemed barely out of puppyhood.  Both stared wide eyed at the noise and bustle surrounding them, boisterous dogmen checking out the competition, shouting jibes at each other, money changing hands as bets were made.  They shied away from the corner where the drug dealers had set up shop and wandered close to where Daniel stood tied to the wall.

A man walked over to the young pair.  "Josh, you got your dog ready?" he asked the boy.

Boy and dog quivered with excitement.  "Yeah, Dad!  Killzone's ready for anything, aren't ya, boy?"  Josh ruffled the dog's ears and Killzone jumped with delight, tail wagging so hard his whole body wiggled.

Did this boy understand what could happen here tonight?  It was just a game to him.  Daniel remembered Dr. Gore's unwillingness to even describe the cruelty of a dog fight, the disturbed expression on his kindly face.  God, they would put a child's pet in that blood-stained pit?

Josh removed his dog's collar, laughing as Killzone jumped up to lick his face.  Daniel looked to the father, who watched the interplay expressionlessly before picking up the dog.  He took it over to a hanging scale, waiting for another dog to be weighed before suspending Killzone in the scale's rough rope halter.

"Five pounds less," the man running the weight station said.  He, along with the referee who had announced the dog fight's commencement, seemed to be the closest things to officials this travesty had.  "Close enough for a match.  You still in?" he asked Josh's father.

"Got a roll of cash says I am."

The referee came over and Josh's father and another man put their money into a bag.  Holding the bag up, the referee shouted, "First match of the night!  One-time winner Mischief and straight-off-the-chain Killzone!  Four thousand dollar purse!  All bets welcome!"

This announcement ignited a flurry of activity as the crowd closed in, wads of cash waving.  Daniel even caught a glimpse of Josh joining in the betting, pulling a single wrinkled ten dollar bill from his pocket.  Soon the boy pulled Killzone out of the crush of people, leading the excited, panting dog over to the pit, saying reassuringly, "I know you're worth a lot more than that, Killzone, but it's all I had."

The crowd caught up with the boy, and his father picked the dog up, stepping into a corner of the pit with it.  At the opposite corner, Mischief and his handler stepped in.

The crowd jostled closer.  Outside the pit, Josh peered around his kneeling father's shoulder.  Chewing his lip, he asked his father, "Dad, you sure that dog's not too big and mean for Killzone?"

The man’s answer was lost as the referee called, "Let go!"

From his low vantage point, Daniel couldn't see the fight, but he could hear the snarls and yelps reverberating on the vast room's metal walls, could see Josh's confident excitement turn to doubt as the minutes went by, then sudden horror as a dull snapping sound caused the crowd to roar.

The father's voice rose above the tumult, "Goddamn it, get back in there!"

There was a long pause, then the referee called, "Killzone turned!  Match over!  Win to Mischief!"

As the audience cheered or booed according to their bets, another man laughed at the boy's father.  "That's gonna cost you, Don!"

"Fuck!"  Josh's father dragged Killzone out over the low wall and away from the pit by the scruff, slinging him down on the ground.  "Fucking loser!"

The young brown and white dog couldn't stand.  One fore-leg bled profusely, bent at an unnatural angle.  With a cry, the boy gathered his dog up, trying to comfort it.  Killzone looked up at his master and licked the boy's nose.

"Dad, you can fix him up, right?" Josh pleaded.

His father didn't answer.

"He's not hurt so bad, you can fix him--"

"Piece of shit already cost me enough," the man finally said.  He hooked his foot around the dog and kicked it out of the boy's arms.  The dog skidded across the concrete floor to slam with a yelp against the wall near Daniel.

"No!" the boy cried.  "Killzone!  Dad, please--!"

"Forget him," his father ordered.  "He turned.  He's a loser."

"But--but he's not hurt bad!"

The man ignored him.  "Hey, Marcus," he called.  "Gimme that rubbing alcohol."  When a bottle was tossed to him by the other man, he opened it and poured the entire contents on the cringing dog, who whined sharply as the caustic liquid hit his raw flesh, ducking down as if to burrow into concrete floor.

Then the man pulled a cigarette lighter out of his pocket.

As if in slow motion, the boy watching with incomprehension, Daniel with disbelief, the man flicked the lighter on, bent down and touched the flame to the outer edge of the alcohol pool.

In a blinding flash, a bright white fire engulfed the dog, consumed it, obliterated it. 

The scream that issued from the dancing, writhing pyre wasn't human, but neither was it animal.  Even an animal needs life to support it and this life had ended.  A leftover paean to agony and loss, it didn't seem to understand that it was already dead.

The man grabbed his son by the collar and shook him hard.  "That's what happens to losers!" he shouted, a finger jabbing back at the contorted, thrashing blaze.  "You want to be a loser too?  You want that?"

"No, no!"  The boy's face shone wet with tears, eyes wide, pupils dark with shock despite the flames they reflected.

"Hey!  Men don't cry!  You're not a baby no more, gotta tough up, you hear?"

The boy continued to stare at the holocaust that had been his pet, the howl dying away, eaten away by the licking flames.

His father shook him again.  "You hear?"

Josh's dazed eyes shifted to his father.

"Marcus's bitch dropped a litter, we'll get one of them.  Something better.  A real fighter."  He turned to the friend who had given him the rubbing alcohol.  "Right, Marcus?"

"Sure thing.  We'll pick out a real game dog."

Josh stared at Marcus silently.

His father shook him one more time.  "It's not a fucking pet, it's a sport, understand?"

The boy nodded mechanically, wiping his tears off with a sleeve.

Marcus clapped the boy on the back.  "You'll train up a winner this time, right?"

The fire had burned down, the charred blackness underneath starting to show, still and silent now.

"Yes," the boy said flatly.  "I'll get a winner this time."

The man gave his boy an approving squeeze to the shoulder, and father and son turned away.  Neither one looked back at the stiff scorched mass that had been so alive and eager just twenty minutes ago.

"Jesus, Don," Marcus remarked as they moved off.  "That shit stinks, man."

Daniel didn't catch the off-hand answer.  He huddled against the cold metal wall, trembling so hard he could barely see.  But he didn't dare close his eyes.  He realized he was whining and stopped.  He didn't dare bring attention to himself.  He didn't dare do anything but shiver, the smell of horror clogging his nose, the warmth from the smoldering corpse a false comfort in the cold warehouse.

Josh stood next to his father by the pit, the leash and empty collar still spilling from his pocket, his eyes blank as he watched the next fight.  Killzone was not the only thing that had died here tonight.

And the father...  Daniel didn't need his spirit sight to know this man's darkness came from within.  Had the man intentionally set his child's dog up to fail to teach him a lesson in manliness?  Or was the loss a blow to his own manhood, and the vicious punishment vengeance on a helpless animal?

A sudden shout made Daniel jump.  "She-Ra, you gorgeous bitch, time to fight!"  Tino and his group descended on their female dog's kennel, opening it and snagging her with a leash as she bounded out barking.  She was a beautiful pit bull, though her yellow fur was marred by several red scars running along her flanks.  Apparently there was no sexism in the dog fighting world: male or female, every dog got the opportunity to die in the pit.

She-Ra was weighed and matched up with another female, Cruella de Vil.  Right before the match started, Tino came back to Daniel, calling back over his shoulder, "You guys take that, I'll get Brownie ready."  He untied Daniel's lead from the wall, drawling cheerfully, "Tha's right, killa, you up after She-Ra."

As Daniel was led to the weigh station, he considered his options.  Or rather, lack of options, he admitted numbly to himself.  His original plan of a well-placed bite to get him out of this was hopeless.  The exit was closed, the place was clogged with people, many of them well-armed, all of them with no regard for the life of a mere dog.  Maybe there were some back rooms he could hide in, but without knowing exactly where they were, he doubted he'd get that far.

Tino removed his harness and leash, lifting him into the scale's halter, and he hung there for an uncomfortable minute while the man running it confirmed his weight at 71.4 pounds.

"You substituting this dog for Home Boy against Ruffian?"

"Yep."

Tino and Ruffian's handler settled on a purse, Daniel unsure whether the $3,000 Tino bet was a compliment or not.  After getting him out of the scale, Tino kept ahold of Daniel with an arm each under chest and rump, his legs dangling in-between.  The man walked over to the pit, checking on She-Ra's match and for the first time, Daniel got a good look at dog fighting.

The match was in full swing, She-Ra and her opponent locked together in a slowly revolving scuffle, jaws gripping forelegs, hind legs jerking, growls rising and falling.  After a time, Cruella released her hold, turning her head and upper body away with snarling whine.

"Turn!" the referee called.  "Turn by Cruella de Vil!"  Using some kind of wooden pry bar, he pried She-Ra's teeth lose from the other dog's leg.  "Get behind your scratch lines," he ordered and the two handlers herded their dogs to two opposite corners.  The corners were marked off with silver duct tape, creating a little triangle home base in the pit.

"Fucking Cajun Rules," Tino muttered, edging over to his group's corner.

So giving a dog a slight break was one of those pesky rules these brave street-fighting dogmen despised.

"Face your dogs," the referee called.  The two handlers did so, their dogs facing forward between their legs.  Cruella de Vil had a white coat with several large black spots, liberally smeared with red at this time.  She panted hard, trembling, her eyes showing white all around.  She-Ra seemed better off, trembling and wild-eyed also, but not as bloody.

The referee glared at Tino's friend, who handled She-Ra.  "Behind the scratch-line, you know the rules."

The man sighed, but scooted himself and the dog back so that they were completely within their triangle home base.  Tino, who was now standing behind him, nudged his friend's shoulder.  "Say the fucking word, and I'll--"

The other man cut him off with a laugh.  "More fucking rules, more fucking money, bro," he said.

Tino continued to swear, but backed off.

Finally satisfied with his contestants' placement, the referee called, "Let go!"

Only Cruella's owner let go of his dog and for a moment the dog didn't move.  "Scratch, you piece of shit!" he screamed.  Cruella jerked at the sound of his voice, crossed over the scratch-line, heading for She-Ra.  She-Ra was released immediately and the two dogs met in the middle of the carpet, teeth audibly snapping, their handlers circling around them, shouting encouragements.

In a sudden blindingly fast move, She-Ra found an opening.  She clamped down on Cruella's neck, pulling, shaking, dragging, Cruella unable to do anything but scrabble futilely with her paws.  Then, still locked together, the two dogs rolled over, She-Ra gave an extra vicious tug, and Cruella's skin ripped free of her face and neck, the blood from her artery pumping out with the beat of her heart.  She-Ra's handler's howl of triumph drowned out the weak scream of pain from Cruella and when the dying dog released its bowels and bladder, the audience erupted with laughter.

Tino laughed and hooted, bouncing Daniel in his arms.  "See that, Brownie?  That how we make money!  You do that, we got no problems, you and me!"

She-Ra was removed from the pit in triumph by her handler, although Daniel noticed he did nothing to treat her numerous cuts, merely snapping her collar on and leading her back to her kennel.  Tino stepped into the pit with Daniel, putting him down with a groan.  "Damn, this bad boy's heavy.  Now clean up your shit and let's get on with this.”

This last was directed to Cruella de Vil's owner.  He was dragging her to the edge of the pit by what was left of the scruff of her neck, fresh blood still pumping out of the barely living dog.  As he hauled her over the pit wall, someone asked him, "You want to finish her off with the battery?"

"No," he said with disgust.  He slung her to the floor and left her there.  "Bitch ain't worth the juice.  It'll die soon enough on its own."

So electrocution was the usual method of execution.  Good to know. 

Everything around Daniel took on an unreal edge.  He shook his head.  He couldn't afford muzzy thinking.  This was real.

He'd killed the bear, but that had been a fight for survival, he'd had no choice, it was the bear or Sam.  This was something else, something sick, death as entertainment.

Like Killzone, Daniel did not want to fight.  Even a winning dog could easily die.  He would prefer intimidation.  He even sensed unwillingness from his opponent in the pit, Ruffian.  Yes, the big pit bull was 'game' but a fight to death was not the natural instinct of any dog.  It took the perverted interference from humans to instill that desire.  In the canine world a fight would be a growl or nip.  A show of strength from Ruffian and a show of submission from Daniel, and Ruffian would've been satisfied.  But such was not to be.  The noise, the crowds, the smells of sweat, excitement, anger, fear, from both human and canine...it was overwhelming, distorting.

Daniel knew he’d need to fight for real, give it his all, or Lucky’s all. ‘Turning’ would only earn him a quick visit with a lit match or a car battery.  He needed to rely on pure instinct: the other dog was too experienced, too raw, Daniel couldn’t possibly think fast enough to influence the outcome.  This was not the Dark One’s clumsy bear here, this was no puppet, but a viciously trained animal.

Saturated with fresh stains, the pit's scent of old blood was long gone, subsumed by the fresh smells of blood, urine, and feces.  The lingering traces of the dogs who’d come before him.

The referee’s voice rang out, "Two-time winner Ruffian going for his championship versus straight-off-the-chain Brownie!  Make your bets, please!"

The big dog facing him required Daniel's full focus, everything else faded in importance, other sounds and voices just distractions to be ignored.

“Let go!”  The hands holding him released, and he came out, circling, can't let Ruffian get a good hold, but a bite got past, the feel of fangs sliding into flesh, ignore the pain, slip out from the powerful jaws, get a bite of your own in, not as good, not as deep, but good enough to get him to back off, but not for long, teeth flashing in the harsh light, you dodge, you duck, "Turn by Brownie!" back in your corner, okay, chance to breathe, but can't stay, have to scratch or you'll die, you'll be killed, "Let go!" you’re released and off you go, over the duct tape, build up some speed, Ruffian caught by surprise, he's big and powerful, he's not used to dogs his equal, you don't hate him, but you have to beat him, you dive hard, you taste blood, “Yeah, Brownie!  He game!  He game!  You know it!” you come out the other side, Ruffian’s there, he’s bleeding and he’s mad and he’s snapping faster than you can track, the howls surrounding you rise up to become one strident pulsing call, a yellowy light pulsing, “Oh fuck, cops!  Shit, run!” you snap back at Ruffian, your snarls merging with his, “Stop!  This is the police!  Everyone freeze!” you smell blood, you know it’s your own before the pain hits you, the pain doesn’t matter, you have to fight, “Police!  Everyone freeze!  Flat on the floor, hands on your heads!” you twist, but Ruffian has you tight, has your shoulder in his jaws, twisting will just slice you up, “Sir!  God!  It’s Lucky!  In the pit!” you find fur and flesh and sink your teeth down, not sure what you’re biting, your two bodies locked together, not sure whose legs are kicking, “No, Carter!  Not like that!  Go behind him!” shadows and light, blood and flesh, hold tight, keep your enemy where you can see him, keep biting, “Pick up his hind legs.  Right, pick them up like a wheelbarrow!” keep biting, but you’re off balance, “Pull him backwards, I’ll do the same with the other one!” you’re off balance, so is Ruffian, you both loosen your holds, you both snarl and snap but you’re lifting, being pulled, being dragged, “Right, good, keep walking, circle around.  Wait till it’s safe...” pulled, dragged, away from Ruffian, away from fighting, away from death…to a smell, a scent you know… “Lucky?” …a scent you know…  Sam.

Daniel blinked, a tentative whimper replacing the snarl in his throat.  He stood there trembling, his hind legs being lowered down to the floor.  Sam came around, her hand on his head steadying him.  “Lucky?  You know me?  Yeah, it’s me, boy, you’re gonna be okay.”  She had tears in her eyes and Daniel collapsed into her arms.

[ ](http://s71.photobucket.com/albums/i121/PattRose1/A%20Dogs%20Life/?action=view&current=samafterfight.jpg)

It was a while before he could really track what was happening around him.  He was dimly aware of the police giving chase to some fleeing dogmen; defiant shouting as people were cuffed and moved out; Animal Control officers rounding up dogs, using long poles with loops of sturdy cord at the far end to capture the cowering or snarling animals.

Slowly the chaotic sounds died down as order was restored and Daniel risked moving in Sam's embrace, licking her ear and drinking in her reassuring scent.

"Hey, goofball, how're you doing?" Sam asked, her voice still a little shaky.  She ran her hands over him.  He was dismayed to see that he'd gotten blood all over her clothes.

He caught sight of Jack, over by the back wall, by Killzone's remains, his expression a stony mask.  The Colonel looked over at Sam, placing his body deliberately to block her potential view. 

Daniel thought of Josh, hoping he would be taken into protective custody.  Daniel was intimately acquainted with the failings of the foster care system, but it was preferable to a natural parent the caliber of Josh's father.

An Animal Control officer approached Sam, asking, "Ma'am?  Are you the one who alerted the police?"

Sam answered affirmatively and they spoke for a time, Daniel not paying much attention until Sam asked what kind of penalties the dog fighters would face.

“The human instigators will get off with a fine and maybe a few days jail-time," the officer said.

"That's all?"

"Aggravated animal cruelty is a felony in this state, but usually they plea-bargain down to a misdemeanor."

"But, this..."  Sam stared around at a loss for words.  "This mindset...it's just _wrong_."

The man nodded, his eyes bleak.  "It's a fact that animal cruelty in childhood leads to criminal violence in adulthood.  Most of these people will bail out and continue on with the exact same behavior.  Meanwhile all the pit bulls will probably be destroyed.”

"No!"  Sam's protest was instant and automatic.  "How is your killing them any better than these people killing them?"

The man looked honestly pained.  "What choice do we have?"

"But why?" Sam demanded.  "They'll all so gentle and obedient."

"To people, yes, but they've been trained to be vicious to other dogs."

“So train them out of that!”

“That's possible, but who has the time?  Do you?

Sam sat, open mouthed, then her face fell.  She hugged Daniel hard and shook her head.  "No, I don't."

The officer squeezed her shoulder.  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be accusatory.  You're obviously doing everything right with your own rescue dog here.  You've got your hands full.  Hopefully there'll be others to step up for these dogs."

Sam nodded silently.

"Ma’am, we'll need some proof of ownership for your dog," another officer said, stepping up beside the first.

Sam clutched Daniel harder.  "He was found out in the wilds.  I didn't adopt him officially from a rescue organization.  I don't have any paperwork yet."

"We may have to take him into the pound tonight until--"

"You are not laying a hand on my dog."  Sam's voice was hard and cold as glacial ice.  She stood up to her full height, gripping Daniel's scruff hard, a hold he might have considered painful in other circumstances, but found reassuring right now.

The officers looked very unhappy but very determined.  However, the situation was defused by the arrival of Jack.

"Major, stand down.  I got it covered.  Good ol' Doc Gore is here."

"Henry Gore?" the first officer asked.

With his veterinarian there to vouch for him, Daniel found himself safe from the tender mercies of Animal Control.  Dr. Gore looked him over right then and there at Sam's insistence, pronouncing him basically fit.  They made arrangements to meet him at his clinic in a few hours to get a couple of his deeper cuts and punctures stitched shut.

Jack had recovered Daniel's harness and leash, and when Henry moved off to look at some of the other dogs, Sam led Daniel outside to the warehouse's back alley.  The police were there in force, processing arrests.  As Sam gave her statement, Daniel thought he caught a glimpse of Tino in the back of a squad car.

Meanwhile, the recovered dogs were led to waiting Animal Control trucks, scared but trusting, tail-tucked cringes alternating with wags and hopeful panting.  He thought of the officer's dour prediction.  So it wasn't enough that Killzone and Cruella had already died.  She-Ra, Mischief, Ruffian, all the rest: they would all die.  Maybe humanely in a vet's office, but die, nonetheless.  For the sins of their owners.

When Sam and Jack began to lead Daniel away, he caught sight of Josh sitting on a curb with a woman in plain clothes.  Hopefully a social worker of some kind.  The boy sat stiff-backed, silent, his eyes holding the same blank look they'd held since his beloved pet was killed in front of him.

Daniel tugged on his leash and Sam let him led her to the boy.  She pulled him back at the last second, stopping him in front of the curb.  But Josh looked up with reddened eyes and when Daniel wagged his tail, giving a tentative little bark, the boy's face crumpled.  He reached out with a strangled cry and Sam dropped the leash before the social worker had time to nod.  Daniel rushed into the boy's arms, a warm solid presence for him to cling to as he sobbed.

Daniel was actually glad Josh was crying.  He knew what it was to shut down as a child, to try to shut out the pain and in doing so shut out the whole world.

After a time Josh's sobs died down and Daniel backed off enough to lick the boy's wet face.  He was rewarded with a very small smile.  He petted Daniel's head.  "Brownie," he said.

"His real name's Lucky," Sam said softly.

"Lucky," he repeated.  "I saw him in the pit.  I'm glad he's okay."

"And you'll be okay, too," the social worker said.  Daniel saw her give Sam a look and he gave Josh one last lick before Sam led him away.  His last sight of Josh was the boy giving him a little wave before responding to a gentle question from the social worker.

Sam looked troubled.  "Sir, do you know what happened to him?" she asked Jack, nodding her head back at Josh.

Jack's delivery was perfect as he said, "I don't know any details, Carter."  But the betraying glance he gave to the small body bags being loaded into an Animal Control truck told Daniel that he knew more than he said.  Daniel would never be able to testify, but he hoped the full story would come out and Josh's father would be put away for a very long time.

True to his word, Dr. Gore patched Daniel up at his clinic.  It was after midnight by the time he and Sam got to bed, Sam for the first time letting Daniel sleep up on her bed, her hand on his neck as she fell asleep.

Daniel would never underestimate the Dark One again.

***

On Friday afternoon, as Daniel lay curled up and dozing in his dog bed next to Sam's workbench, Janet breezed into the lab.  “So, I’ve decided to have a fondue party,” she announced to Sam.

Sam looked up from the unknown device she was testing.  “Really?  Do people still do that?”

“Yes, thank you so much, they do.  Tomorrow night.”

“Gee, sorry, I'd love to come, but I have a lot to catch up on.”

“On a Saturday night?”

“…Yes.”

“Well that’ll be awkward, seeing’s how the party’s at your house.”

“What?  Janet, you can’t just waltz in and take over--”

“Yes, I can.”

“I should just leave you knocking on the door of an empty house, your cheese congealing into a cold, nasty--”

“Just be ready at five, hon.”

The next night at five sharp Janet and what seemed like the entire female population of the SGC descended on Sam, bearing bubbling vats of broth, cheese, and chocolate, along with tubs of cubed meat, bread, and fruit.

The women were all officers.  Apparently one of those military things where enlisted wouldn't want to mingle with officers and vice versa.  Sam and Janet had mentioned these gatherings in the past, but Daniel had never imagined that he would one day be witness to one.  The women opened a few bottles of wine and began the party with a somber toast to the SGC women who'd been killed in the line of duty.

Then the fun began, music and fondue pots were cranked up high, conversation and laughter equally cranked up.  Daniel was in heaven, petted and stroked at every turn, his almost healed cuts sympathized over, tidbits popped into his mouth continuously.

After the meats and breads were consumed, the women turned on a three-tiered chocolate fountain, and their real eating commenced.

Sam circulated nervously, reiterating to anyone who would listen, "Remember, dogs can't eat chocolate!  Everyone be careful Lucky doesn't snatch something."

"Sam, relax!" Janet said.  "Doctor's orders."

Apparently the sliced fruit, angel food cake, and fountain of chocolate were not enough sweets for them.  Ice cream and toppings were triumphantly brought out by Lt. Keller of the nursing staff and the sugar orgy continued.  Sam came out of the kitchen with a bowl of her own, sprinkling a generous helping of chocolate chips over the top and sat down beside Daniel, stirring her concoction.

"Ye gods, Sam, what is that?" Janet asked, staring into the bowl with disgust.

"It's non-fat Greek yoghurt with blueberries."

They all stared.

"Um, and chocolate chips, too."

"With all this ice cream available, you're eating yoghurt?" Janet demanded in disbelief.

"It tastes great!" Sam stated defensively.  "And it's full of antioxidants."  They stared some more.  "And...Daniel turned me on to it."

"Ahhh," Janet said along with everyone else.  "Daniel turned you on..." she trailed off suggestively, ending with an innocent, "to it?"

Sam joined the laughter even as she blushed.  "Yeah."

The laughter trailed off and Janet squeezed Sam's shoulder.  "If anyone can talk their way out of trouble, it's Daniel."

"Yeah, you wouldn't believe the stuff we let him get away with in the Infirmary," Keller said.

"And the Control Room," Captain Austin added.

Janet held up a bowl of chocolate ice cream.  "I'd like to make a toast."

More laughter as everyone grabbed something with chocolate in it.  They sure knew him well.

"To our missing comrade, Daniel Jackson.  He'll be gracing us with his presence again before you know it."

As everyone took a big mouthful, Keller added, "His _gorgeous_ presence!"

Daniel sank low, thankful that dogs can't blush.  The women all made a point of giving Sam a reassuring touch on the arm or shoulder.

When the last of the chocolate had been literally licked from the fountain (who knew that Major Fitton from Engineering had an even bigger sweet tooth than Daniel?), one of the nurses brought in a ton of hand-me-downs from her car.  She declared it all destined for the Salvation Army and if anyone wanted something, they should take it now.  Giggling, the women all striped down to bras and panties, trying things on, laughing and tossing clothes back and forth between them. 

"Isn't it creepy the way dogs watch you when you undress?" Lt. Burtt asked, stripping her blouse off over her head before Daniel even had the chance to look away.

"Um, no, I haven't really noticed that with Lucky," Sam remarked, pulling a pair of jeans from the bag and comparing it to her waist.  "He's always been kind of shy.  I mean, he does all his business in the bushes.  I've never had to scoop a single poop."

Keller grinned.  "Trust you to end up with a dog as brainy as you are."

Sam made a face as the others laughed.  She slipped her pants off to try the jeans on.  Daniel didn't leave the room or look away the way he usually would have, telling himself he didn't want to attract undue attention.  She decided the pants didn't suit her and passed them on to Janet.

“Sam, you're about five feet taller than me, and most of that is leg," Janet said enviously, passing the pants on to another woman.

The impromptu clothing exchange devolved into mock fights over the best outfits, some of the tipsier women laughing so hard they could barely stand.  Aw, crap, Daniel thought morosely.  Finally he gets to see a little girl-on-girl action and he would be in a body that couldn’t enjoy it.  He lowered his head to his paws with a heartfelt sigh, gazing sadly at the roomful of half-clothed girls giggling as they shimmied to Sam’s music, blouses and skirts flying overhead.

Eventually the evening wound down, group taxis were called, arrangements were made to pick up cars the next day, and finally just Janet was left.  She helped Sam clean up what little the others hadn't already tidied, and the two sank down on the couch together, each drinking a last glass of water before going to sleep in an attempt to avoid hangovers the next morning. 

“Did this help?" Janet asked softly.  "Even a little?”

Sam sighed, leaning over until their heads touched.  “Yeah, it did.  Thanks, Janet.”  They sat in companionable silence.

Daniel laid down across their feet, keeping them warm, not sure what exactly Janet was referring to, but glad Sam had such good friends in her life.


	7. Confrontation

When Daniel's two month deadline was still more than a week away, SG-1 was cleared for another mission.  As they were still missing their fourth, a first contact mission was out of the question, and once again General Hammond took advantage of Sam's geological and mineralogical expertise. 

"I can't believe they got us on trinium duty again," Jack whined as they stepped out of the wormhole into the bright morning sun of P99-251.  "If another mountain falls on us, it'd serve them right."

Sam patted Daniel.  "Not with our portable earthquake detector."

There had been no argument from Hammond when the three humanoid teammates requested permission to take Lucky with them.  Daniel was especially happy about this, as he had overheard SG-8's report and was curious to meet the planet's inhabitants.  All the arch-anth groundwork had been done and the Cofitachequi were judged a friendly society, eager to trade.

When SG-1 approached the town after an hour's walk, they discovered dogs were unheard of on this planet: a group of children had run out to offer escort services, but backed off, milling around uncertainly at this strange apparition.  But Daniel, intergalactic diplomat that he was, had them charmed in no time.  The children quickly decided that four-footed playmates were, as that goofy Tau'ri man in the baseball cap said, "Way fun."  When it was obvious the love affaire between 'Lucky' and the children was enthusiastically mutual, Sam released the leash from Daniel's harness collar and let him run free through the town.

Daniel positively scampered.  The Cofitachequi were real live mound-building society!  Something that hadn't been seen since Hernando de Soto toured the Mississippi Valley in the 1500s.  Daniel turned his head this way and that, looking at the truncated earthen pyramids, wooden platform buildings on top, everything from religious temples, to palaces, to open-air dance floors.  While his sight was not as good as he would have liked, who knew how much you could detect by smells?  He could identify food from crops and middens, the different woods used, fabrics.  He could even tell who associated with whom by the lingering scents on hands and clothes.

[ ](http://s71.photobucket.com/albums/i121/PattRose1/A%20Dogs%20Life/?action=view&current=moundbuilder2.jpg)

"Lucky's certainly enjoying himself," Sam observed with a laugh.  Daniel's retinue of excited children dogged his every leap and bound.  "Daniel would have so much to say about all this..."  She trailed off.

"So we'll bring him for a visit once he comes back," Jack said, no trace of doubt in his voice.

Rounding an earthen corner, Daniel caught a whiff of something new and before he could figure it out, he came under the shadow of a giant shape, some humongous animal, looming over him, right in the path of the SG-1 and the children. 

With a yelp of alarm, he scrabbled to a halt, dirt flying as he retreated to place himself on guard in front of the unsuspecting Sam, hackles raised.  However his threatening snarl was greeted with laughter from both his teammates and the children.

He blinked, growl dying in his throat.

It was a cow.

Humongously large to Daniel, yes, but still a cow.  Rolling a disinterested eye (as big as his head he was sure) in his direction, the cow held its ground and continued to placidly chew its cud.

The children all shrieked over one another, explaining that it was just "old Yatika" out for her morning graze.

Still laughing, Sam went down on one knee, giving Daniel a vigorous tousling of his ears.  "Good dog, Lucky!  That's my brave boy!"

Well.  This place was clearly not authentic.  The Mound Builders of North America had no cattle, so how was Daniel to know?

"Welcome, Travelers of the Chappai'i!" came a loud voice.  "The Tau'ri are full of surprises, I see!"  A tall man in full regalia walked towards them, his smiling face crinkled with laugh-lines.  He wore a high headdress of many feathers, his heavy weaved robes trimmed with animal fur and tails.  He was accompanied by a large entourage of dignitaries, as well as a contingent of guards.

Introducing himself as Notch’taw, Sun Chief of his people, he welcomed SG-1.  It looked like SG-8's assessment was correct: everyone in the Chief's party spoke eagerly of trade, especially the merchants.  Daniel continued his olfactory investigation as the natives and SG-1 spoke, deciding that the fishy smell he detected was abalone.  As he speculated on whether the town here traded with another nation or if they had a settlement on the seashore somewhere, his team reached a conclusion in their negotiations. 

As he was eager to trade, Chief Notch'taw himself offered to escort Sam to the hillside where SG-8 had found the trinium traces.  Jack and Teal'c were intrigued by the powerful bows and razor-sharp obsidian-tipped arrows the Cofitachequi Guardsman employed, and the two men accepted an invitation to practice at the shooting range on the outskirts of town.

When SG-1 split up, Daniel accompanied Sam.  As they walked, Notch'taw pointed out various aspects of Cofitachequi life and Daniel wished more than ever for a mouth capable of human speech.  He had about a million questions.

Sam seemed to read his mind because she said, "We have another team member named Daniel who couldn't be here today.  I know he would love to discuss every aspect of your life with you."

Notch'taw laughed.  " _Every_ aspect?  That is a very curious man."

Sam smiled, but Daniel could read her well-hidden sorrow.  "Yes, that he is."

[ ](http://s71.photobucket.com/albums/i121/PattRose1/A%20Dogs%20Life/?action=view&current=moundbuilder.jpg)

"I hope that he will visit us soon."

"Yes, me too."

Hard scientist that she was, Sam was most interested in the construction of the earthen mounds, so that was what Daniel got to listen to.  He couldn't complain.  It was all interesting to him.

They soon reached the alluvial fan which extended out from the local foothills.  The small trinium nodules had been discovered here, and Sam set up her equipment at a likely spot.  A couple of the younger members of the entourage, probably the children of nobles, offered to help her collect the samples of different rocks and soils, sorting and pouring chemical solutions to check the reactions.  He knew it enthralled Sam, but it was the kind of stuff that put him to sleep even as a human, much less an dog. 

Daniel wasn't the only bored one.  Notch'taw and most of his retinue retired to the shade of an oak tree, spreading blankets to lie down, his Guardsmen keeping watch.

Daniel gave a jaw cracking yawn.  Out here there wasn't as much to see or smell.  He checked on the Dark One: riding high like a black twin of the sun.  He settled down in the warm sunshine beside Sam, her voice lulling him into a doze.

He woke with a start a short time later to hear a stern voice call out, “This woman harbors a great evil!"

Sun Chief Notch’taw, his face twisted with anger, stalked over to Sam's field lab.  His people followed, blinking in confusion.  "It has been revealed to me in a vision from the gods.  She brings destruction and calamity."

Her would-be helpers backing away in fear, Sam stood up, her hands raised peacefully.  "Sun Chief, please, I don't understand.  I have done nothing to threaten you."

Dreading what he would see, Daniel looked with his inner eye.  Yes, it was the Dark One, and not just pulling strings from above like a puppet master.  It had entirely infested the Chief’s body.  His aura was shot through with black, stiff and murky with the Dark One’s filth.

"She and her animal must die!” 

Notch'taw's retinue of townsfolk were all stunned, even the Guardsmen taking a moment to react to their leader's order, clutching their bows and knives, wide-eyed. 

Daniel sprang in front of Sam, snarling and barking furiously.  None of the Cofitachequi had seen Daniel do more than gambol and pant, and the warriors drew back in startled alarm. 

It wasn't much of an opening, but Sam took it, turning and running as fast as she could, Daniel on her heels, heading into the thickets of scrub oaks, the frustrated shouts of Notch'taw sounding behind them.  Daniel overtook Sam and acted as pathfinder, using his nose and canine-enhanced spacial sense to led her at a dead run even through unfamiliar territory.

They ran long and hard through the thick woodland, long past the point where there was any sound of pursuit.  Daniel let Sam direct him on some twists and turns meant to lose any trackers.  Then they ran some more.

As they skirted the edge of a hill, Daniel smelled something strange.  Something cool and moist, somehow seeming ‘safe.’  He guided Sam to the hillside, where a leafy thicket obscured a dark shadow.  He plunged in, Sam following. 

It was a large cave. 

Daniel plopped down, panting, grateful for the cool air.  Sam crouched next to him, panting herself, and scratched his ears.  "Hey, boy, I know you think a cave is a really good idea, but we can't stay here.  Too easy to get pinned down and trapped."  She peering out the opening as she spoke, checking for the Guardsmen.

Huh.  Daniel actually _had_ thought it was a good idea, regardless of the extra warm and cozy feeling it gave to his canine nature.

Sam chucked him under the chin.  "Don't worry, boy, we'll make a soldier out of you yet."

~Right.  Good luck with that, ma'am.~

Sam sat, one hand to Daniel's head, chewing her lip as she took the opportunity to rest a moment.  Daniel heard movement outside and caught the whiff of a town Guardsman.  He stiffened, staring steadily, Sam coming on guard beside him.  The man came in to view, walking cautious and alert, his weapon at ready.  There was no way he could have seen them in the cave, but he placed himself beside the trunk of a large oak, partly under cover, keeping an eye directly on the cave.  As if he knew they were there.

Sam carefully pulled her sidearm out, holding the zat ready, but the man didn't take any action.  A minute later, another guard joined him, then two more.  When there were seven guards, the Sun Chief approached, more Guardsmen and townspeople accompanying him.

"Tau'ri woman, we know you hide within!" the possessed man called.

Sam hissed, surprised.  Daniel wished he could tell her it wasn't her fault the Chief found her.  The Dark One would find her aura anywhere on the planet. 

"Demon, come out!  Face your fate, and your death may yet be an easy one!"

Daniel voice a low growl.  Even more than the Goa'uld, the dark Suss'risa fitted the traditional description of a demon.  It taunted Daniel, calling Sam by a name that better suited itself.

"If we must force you out, your death will not be pleasant!"

Sam called back, "I am not a demon!  I have done nothing wrong and will not submit to a death sentence without a defending myself."

The Chief sneered with pleasure.  "Very well.  We will force you out."

One of his Guardmen asked, "Shall we go in after her?"

"No, build a fire."

Daniel wasn't sure if Sam could hear that exchange, but she got the idea as they watched people gather dry brush and pile it near the cave's entrance.

[ ](http://s71.photobucket.com/albums/i121/PattRose1/A%20Dogs%20Life/?action=view&current=page60.jpg)

Sam carefully and silently drew both of them further into cave.  She turned and squinted, apparently deciding they were far enough away from the opening to risk a flashlight.  She set the small light to its lowest setting, the resulting light dim, but serviceable to their dark-accustomed eyes.  They went downhill, the cave one long increasingly skinny, increasingly chilly passageway.

"Solutional limestone formation," Sam muttered.

Daniel might have considered the cave system eerily beautiful under other circumstances.  The walls were covered with what looked like bone-white fossilized jelly fish, the longest of their tentacles flowing organically down to the floor.

Sam paused a minute, touching the formations with wonder and regret.  "Ah, calcium carbonate speleothems.  Wish we had time to..."  She shook herself and patted Daniel's head.  "Come on, boy."

Daniel sympathized.  If the walls had been covered by petroglyphs and not geological formations, Daniel would've been the regretful one. 

The narrow channel steepened and tightened, any side branches only short stubs.  When the channel narrowed to the point where Sam had to crawl, it ended in a tiny chamber holding a black pool of cold dirty water, no more than five feet wide.  Sam sighed resignedly.  Daniel sniffed around, giving a small whimper at the staleness of the air.  He stepped into the pool, scrabbling back immediately at the quick drop-off into deep water.

Sam soothed him with a hand to his head.  "Sorry, boy.  No exit, just a karst sinkhole.  We've hit the water table."  She sighed again.  "Let's go back."

Daniel could hear and smell the activity outside before they came in view of the cave entrance.

Townspeople by the dozens bustled to and fro, carrying dry brush, branches and even logs, piling them in an unmistakable bonfire directly in front of the cave entrance.  Sam studied the scene silently, frowning.  Daniel could smell her tension, but could do nothing to help.  Honestly, he didn't understand what the people thought they were doing.  Were they expecting Sam to voluntarily throw herself on the bonfire?  It's not like the flames would spread into the cave, there was nothing to burn in here.  And he and Sam wouldn't get too hot, not with that deep cold passageway diving down to groundwater level.  Maybe they thought the cave was smaller than it was.

A couple hours passed as the townsfolk worked hard, perfecting their pyre.  All the while they worked, the Guardsmen kept a steady watch.  Earlier, Sam had moved cautiously to the entrance.  She was seen, but no one spoke to her or made any move against her.

Eventually the pyre was finished to the Chief's approval.  He called out, "Demon-woman, will you leave your lair voluntarily and face the consequences of your foulness?  If we force you into the daylight ourselves, things will go harder for you."

Daniel's ears flattened, his lip curling, at the Dark One's deliberately provocative word choice.  Was Notch’taw aware of the wrongness within him?  Tino never seemed to realize anything had influenced him, while the dirt-bike rider's memory was suppressed completely.  Maybe in Tino's case, the Dark One didn't have to twist the already criminal inclinations of the man.  In the Sun Chief's case, he seemed to be truly a kind person.  Daniel could only hope he wasn't suffering.  Perhaps the spirit created a false reality in the man's head, pushing him to react in extreme ways at the limits of his natural personality.

"I will not yield to you without assurances of my safety," Sam called out.  "I have done nothing wrong and ask for a fair hearing.  If you won't listen to me, please at least allow my team leader to speak on my behalf."

Daniel could almost taste the desire of the Chief's people for him to listen to her, and resolve this peacefully.  They were confused and uncomfortable.  This was not the normal way of these people, this violent hostility, and they didn't like it.  Unfortunately, their trust in their leader and their fear of unknown evils were too strong for them to oppose him.

"The demon would trick us to our downfall," the Chief crowed to his unhappy followers.  "Very well!  You have sealed your own fate!" he called to Sam.  "Light the pyre," he ordered.

The people first placed a last few dead, uprooted bushes in the last narrow sliver of cave opening.

In the new darkness, Sam retreated a few steps, griping Daniel's harness.  Daniel could sense the fear and tension pouring out of her, but couldn't understand it.  So it was dark in the cave now.  It's wasn’t like Sam was afraid of the dark.  Anyhow the fire would soon cast some light.  So what?  They would wait out the campfire, Jack and Teal'c would eventually catch up with them from wherever they were being delayed, and they would convince the people their leader was ill.

There was a crackle as the fire lit.  The townspeople must have used some kind of accelerant, because the pyre grew strong almost immediately.

Sam sat down cross-legged, her shoulders in a defeated bow, her zat held loosely in her lap, one hand on Daniel's head.  She stroked him gently around his ears.  "I'm so sorry, Lucky-boy," she said softly.  Daniel could barely hear her over the growing roar of the flames.  "All we can do now is hope the Colonel or Teal'c see the flames and come to investigate..."

Still Daniel didn't understand.  The flames were staying in the entryway.  He could feel the heat, but a cool breeze was picking up from behind them.  The cold air from the cave tunnel was streaming over them, seemingly attracted by the growing wall of flame that had been the entrance.  Keeping them cool, supplying them with air.

With oxygen.  Oxygen...

In a flash Daniel finally understood.  The cave air _was_ attracted by the fire.  It was feeding the fire.  Fire needs oxygen to burn.  There may have been a whole planet full of air out there on the other side, but as long as the fire blocked the entrance, it would draw from all sides, and while the planet held an infinite amount, there was a finite amount of oxygen in the cave.  There was no other outlet, and the townspeople, and therefore the Dark One, knew that.  The fire would feed on every last molecule of oxygen in the cave, sucking it out like a vacuum.  Oh, there'd still be an atmosphere in there, but because it wouldn't contain oxygen, it wouldn't be one that either Sam or Daniel could breathe.

They had the choice of suffocating or throwing themselves into the pyre.

Daniel sank down, his head on Sam's thigh.  Is this how it ends?  Had the Dark One won with an incontrovertible fact of physics that all Daniel's energy and devotion could not alter?  Even if they made it through the flames without combusting themselves, the only thing waiting for them on the other side were razor-sharp arrows.

Already the breeze had grown to a wind, rushing past them, the flames dancing brightly.

He sat up briefly to lick Sam's chin, then sank down again.  Sam smiled, her face beautiful in the warm glow.

Still the wind grew, Sam's short hair blowing and rustling around her face.  Daniel sniffed, his nose twitching.  The air was getting stale, stale and bone cold, just like the air at the bottom of the tunnel.  He could feel Sam's lungs working harder as the air thinned and the pressure lowered.  It seemed like Daniel wasn't struggling as hard.  Maybe because he was lower?  Was oxygen heavier than the rest of the components that made up air?  Or was it because the air was rushing up from the deep tunnel directly over the floor?  Regardless, Daniel put his face down on the stony cave floor, giving a whine.  Sam didn't say anything, but lay down with a sigh.

Daniel lay facing the back of the cave, ears drooping, concentrating on simply breathing.  There was always the chance Jack would find them.  His nose twitched.  He smelled moisture.  Must be from the black pool at the bottom of the cave, but...  He smelled more than moisture.  He reared his head up, ears alert, nose working overtime.  Moisture from the pool, yes, but also oak trees, manzanita, coyote bush...  Fresh air, he was smelling fresh air.  Not much of it, but it was there!  Maybe there was a side tunnel they'd missed earlier.

He barked, coming up to his feet, running further into the cave and back to Sam, his tail wagging, his nose down low to the ground.

"Lucky?" Sam asked, rolling over to her stomach, propped up on her elbows, frowning uncertainly.

Daniel licked her right on the lips, then ran back to the back of the cave, barking again.

Sam wiped her mouth with a tentative grin.  "Okay, boy, we'll see what you got."  She holstered the zat, and rose to her feet, taking a few steps before she stumbled down to her knees, breathing with a rasp, holding her head.  "Oh wow.  Okay, lower is better."

Daniel gave a sympathetic whine and a play-bow, then lead the way into the strong wind roaring up the tunnel at them.  Sam regained her feet, but moved bent double, keeping her face as low to the rocky floor as possible.  She pulled her flashlight out as they left the bright firelight behind, the noise and heat gone, the howl of the stiff headwind a constant reminder of the threat they faced.

Back down they went, retracing their steps from earlier, down into the earth, gale winds whipping around them, the air thinning, Daniel's sight graying in a way that had nothing to do with his canine-vision.

The fresh-air thread he followed held steady, a small whiff that flowed through the stagnate cave-air, like a small current of hope in a river of despair, always low to the ground, never higher up or coming from one of the side depressions the narrow cavern held. 

Behind him, Sam followed stubbornly, gasping, panting.  She seemed to sense some of what was so obvious to Daniel.  Sometimes she would pause and breath deep, her face pressed almost to the cold moist rock of the floor, sometimes she would lose the thread, gasping again.  But still she moved on, never giving up, the wind howling and whistling around the odd cave forms, her low-held light thumping forward a step at a time as she crawled, creating looming, jerking cave monsters that leapt and started as they moved slowly down the tunnel.

And still they went on, and still there was no side-chamber, no hidden exit that they had missed on their earlier exploration.

His mind filled with the cobwebs of oxygen starvation, Daniel ran nose first into the pool of brackish water.  He backed up, sneezing the water out, looking around in dull confusion.  It was the same chamber, the same terminus of dirty groundwater.  Where was the fresh air coming from?  What had he missed?

Sam crawled up beside him, her nose as low as his, desperate for good air, her breathing labored.

There.  The air was right there, right by the water.  Daniel whined softly, nudging Sam to where the air was best, strongest.  If Daniel with his small body was feeling this bad, he could only imagine what Sam was feeling.

They lay there and just breathed for a moment, Daniel trying to clear his head.

Then he noticed the bubbles.  The pool hissed and churned, bubbling like boiling water.  What the hell?  He nosed at it cautiously.  No, it was just as cold as ever.

"Well," Sam whispered tiredly beside him.  "That explains the good air, doesn't it, boy?"

No, it doesn't.  Damn it.  Feeling just as stupid as if he were a regular dog, Daniel plopped his chin glumly on his paws, staring at the roiling cauldron that had been motionless standing water before.  Let's see, bubbles are caused by air rising to the surface of a liquid.  Daniel's brows twitched as he watched the unnaturally active water.  So how did air get under this subterranean groundwater?

Beside him, Sam removed her jacket, carefully keeping her nose as low as she could.  She rolled it up, tying it tightly around her waist.  She clipped the still-lit flashlight to a latch on her vest, checking that the vest was zipped up high, and all her accoutrements were fastened down.  All the while she eyed the pool.  She was obviously planning to go in the water...

Of course!  To follow the current of air _through_ the water.  Daniel finally got it.  The air was coming not so much from _under_ the water, as from somewhere connecting to the pool through an underwater passage.  The force of the fire's low pressure zone was pulling air from another chamber, another neighboring cave system.  But how big was the underwater connection and how long?

Daniel looked at the water, trying to see if the size and distribution of the bubbles gave him a clue.  Most of the center of the five-foot-wide pool seethed, but was that due to the size of the passage, or the force of the low pressure zone?

His musing were moot in any case.  Sam had decided their course of action, and he had no vote or voice in the matter.  She crouched at the pool's edge, taking a series of deep breaths, building up her lung supply as best she could.  Daniel rose to his feet, dithering at her side.  He wanted to go first, to make sure she could make it, but she had the light source.  He couldn't smell his way through the water like he could the air.

"Lucky, stay," Sam ordered.  She scratched him under his chin.  "When the fire dies and they come looking for me, they won't hurt you."

~Oh, yes, they will.~

"Once we figure out what I did wrong, we'll smooth it over and come back for you."  She pointed firmly at the ground.  "Sit.  Stay."

Daniel played along, sitting obediently as she gave him a last pat.  She slid feet-first into the pool, grimacing with an involuntary hiss at the coldness.  She treaded water a moment, shivering, the tiny pool evidently deceptively deep.  Then the woman sucked a last few lungfuls in, jack-knifed her body and dove down, her booted feet kicking as she submerged.

Waiting just long enough that the dimming flashlight glow showed she had swum a yard or so down, Daniel dove in after her.  He hovered above her, blinking his eyes against the icy water, struggling to see what the murky glow revealed.

Bubbles.  He could see the movement of bubbles, glinting as they flowed out of a dark alcove, his canine ability allowing him to see the slightest movement in the dimmest light.

Daniel swam toward it, purposely brushing past Sam.  She twisted around, squinting in the dirty water, oriented towards him.  He floated right to the side of the opening, four legs churning as he held his place in the sluggish current.  It was roughly a yard wide, the flash and sparkle of bubbles plainly visible.  Sam didn't hesitate.  With a strong scissor-kick, she forged straight into the opening.  She was clearly giving this her all, gambling every last breath of air in her lungs on the chance that the passage would be wide enough and short enough for her to navigate.  Daniel trailed her, the cost of failure a sick pit in his stomach, the thought of her death in the sunken bowels of an alien planet, a pale bloated corpse wedged in inky black water for eternity...  If she did not emerge from this icy water, neither would he.

Her dim glow bobbing ahead of him, he followed in her turbulent wake, the channel too tight to allow him to swim in tandem or overtake her and scout for the proper avenue to take.  The deep channel went on and on, Daniel buffeted in Sam's wake, the tube neither rising nor falling.  Lungs beginning to burn, he let his breath out a bubble at a time to ease the strain, then he found himself roiled around, Sam's glow rising abruptly.  He surged up, banging against her boots, then her hand grabbed his harness and he was tugged up, squeezed between her body and the calcite walls of the cave, his head at long last breaking the surface.

He snuffed and gulped at the air, Sam gasping beside him, both of them shivering hard.

This pool was more like a pothole.  The smooth lip led up to a small ledge, the most Daniel could see with the flashlight (military-grade and still working thank god) partially obscured under water.  Nails clacking and scrabbling, Sam pushing from behind, Daniel clawed his way up onto the ledge.  He shook himself thoroughly, starting with his head and ending with his tail.

Sam shielded her face, grinning as she complained through chattering teeth, "Like I wasn't wet enough..."

Daniel sniffed around, barely even bothering with his sense of sight, his whiskers twitching around like antenna.  Yes, the air current was here, stronger on this side of the water, leading up through a rocky little passage that looked barely big enough to allow Sam's passage.  Daniel moved toward it, making room for Sam to climb up on their stone slab 'beach.'

There was just enough space for her to lay herself out, one foot still dangling in the water, sopping wet head thumping down on the cold rock, sighing as if it was the finest tropical sand.

Hypothermia was a real danger to the chilled woman and Daniel snuggled down, partially on top of her shivering body, enthusiastically licking her frozen cheeks, lips, and nose, warming her up.  Chattering teeth soon gave way to weak giggling.  "Stop it, boy!" she protested.  But she didn't push him away, so he slowed his licks, nuzzling her and blowing warm gusts from his nose and mouth.  "I'm pretty sure I ordered you to 'Sit and stay,'" she observed.  She reached up and gripped the loose skin of his throat double handed, scratching and rubbing.  "I'm glad you're here, Lucky.  Not sure I would've made it without you."

Daniel said, "Buhf," licking again at her nose and lips until she pushed him away with snort of laughter.  "Yucky, boy."

She flipped over and crawled to her hands and knees.  "Air's better here.  Looks like we're on to the right track."

The howling gale from the other side of the pool was thankfully absent, but there was a definite wind blowing that even Sam could probably have tracked.  They set off, Daniel in the lead, his nose constantly working.  The cave system on this side had skinnier tunnels, but more winding branches.  Sometimes the wind came dribbling down multiple avenues, but one way was always strongest.  Sam let Daniel have his head, trusting his canine instincts to guide them out.  She was reduced to crawling quite a few times, sometimes squeezing and shimmying her way through tight openings, sometimes sliding headfirst down slick flowstone.

Daniel kept a steady pace.  He could probably have eventually found the way out without the telltale wind, just by sense of smell alone, but it would’ve taken longer.  He needed to find the outlet before the fire burned out.  Under normal circumstances they could just hide out here until all the fuss died down, but Daniel at least knew that the Dark One would find them no matter where they were.  Even if Sam were inclined to stop and rest a day or two, Daniel would have to somehow urge her on.  It must be able to 'see' them even right now, but hopefully thought them wandering lost in the maze-like bowels of the earth.

Urging Sam wasn't needed, however.  His teammate never slowed, although Daniel caught sight of her rubbing her head wearily after what felt like hours of crawling and plodding.  He smelled the salty tang of blood on her.  She'd bumped her head on low hanging stalactites a few times, the last one a good wallop that sent a trickle of blood down her face.  Her hands were scraped and bleeding, and had been since the other side of the pool.  He paused once to lick the blood from her face.

When they finally reached this cave's opening to the outside world, Sam actually saw it before Daniel did, so hard was Daniel concentrating on following his nose.

"Yes," she sighed at the yellowish sunshine glow.

Daniel dashed ahead, eager to get Sam out of the cold and dark, and into the warm sunshine.  By the time Sam had caught up with him, however, he was flitting around the lopsided circle of sunlight, sniffing and nosing in frustration.  The opening was too small.

"Aw, man."  Sam squeezed into the tiny rocky cave that formed a kind of antechamber to the little entrance.  "It just couldn't be that easy could it?"

It wasn't even big enough for Daniel to fit.  He gave an exploratory shove through, but his shoulders got stuck, only a panicked scrabble getting him back into the cave.

"Watch out, Lucky," Sam warned, brushing the crumbled stone off his coat.  "I definitely can't get out with your butt in the way."  She glanced around, back the way they came.  "I wonder if there's another opening..."

Daniel knew there wasn't.  This was where the largest draft had been coming from.  Nothing else in this particular cave system could be bigger than a crack.

Sam eyed Daniel speculatively.  "Wish I could send you to look, but I don't think the Colonel's training got that far."

Daniel merely stared at her blankly.  There was nothing else to find and he wasn't leaving her.  The dumb-doggy routine was occasionally useful.

"Okay then," she said with a deep breath.  "We mine our way out."  She first took a long peek through the opening.  Probably looking for natives.  Daniel hadn't smelled anyone or seen any movement.  Whatever the Dark One thought he and Sam were up to, it hadn't sent any guards in this direction.  "I have no idea where we are..."  Sam muttered, trying without success to see the sun.  Daniel knew.  They were just about on the opposite side of the hills from where they entered.

Sam felt around and found a fairly large stone.  She brought it up, patiently beginning to pound and chip away at the ragged opening.  Daniel couldn't do much to help.  At least the activity kept Sam warm.  Daniel had long since dried off, but Sam's clothes were still hopelessly soaked.

Before too long Sam stopped and said, "C'mon, Lucky, try it now!"

Daniel jumped eagerly at the barely, if laboriously, enlarged exit that Sam had managed to whittle down.  Through much scrabbling on his part and shoving on Sam's, and the occasional yelp, Daniel finally popped through like a dog-shaped cork.  The warm sun on his coat, the free air in his nose, Daniel couldn't help a little celebratory cavort. 

He came back to the tiny opening, Sam's grinning face framed in the rocky window.  She reached through and ruffled his ears.  She withdrew her arm and her face reappeared.  Daniel tried to stick his snout through far enough to lick her.  She laughed, pushing his nose back out.  "Enough, little boy!  I need you to do me a favor.  Find Colonel O'Neill.  Colonel O'Neill!  He's the goofy guy that always tries to give you belly rubs, right?"

~Right, Sam.  I think I vaguely remember him...~

"God I hope this works," she muttered to herself.  Then, to drive the point home, repeated urgently, "Colonel O'Neill!  Colonel O'Neill!  Go, boy!"

Daniel gave a short bark and took off.  All that time spent cooped up in the caves, slowly plodding to Sam's pace, Daniel had a surfeit of energy.  He put it to good use.  The last they'd heard from Jack and Teal'c, the two men had been on their way to the Guardsmen training camp on the other side of the town.  By now, they could be anywhere.  Back in the town, captured or negotiating, fighting their way to the 'Gate, maybe through the 'Gate getting reinforcements, on the other side of the hill putting out the fire and wondering where Sam and Lucky were...  Yes, they could be anywhere, but the training camp was a good place to start.

He risked a quick look on the spirit plane.  The Dark One still seemed to be on the other side of the hill.  Once it noticed Daniel was free, it was sure to make a move.  He would need to hurry.  He couldn't get a 'lock' on Jack or Teal'c's auras.  They may have been too far away.  He dropped back to the physical world and continued on his course, pushing himself hard.

The chaparral was just beginning to give way to scrub and Daniel was considering slowing to take another peek at the spirit world, when he caught a whiff of Teal'c.  Tail wagging all on its own, Daniel closed in on the Jaffa's position.  By the time he got close, he had a pretty good idea of the lay of the land.

A large concentration of the town Guardsmen held positions strung out in a line through the oak and sycamores, opposing the two SG-1 members.  It appeared that the guards were arrayed to prevent both a return to the Stargate or a return to the town.  Daniel guessed their orders were to keep Jack and Teal'c busy and out of the way until Sam and Daniel were dead.  Probably the Dark One planned to simply float away at that point, leaving the Chief to deal with the awful crime committed using his body.

Teal'c's scent was very strong but Daniel still didn't see him until the Jaffa moved his head slightly.  Teal'c stood like a statue alongside a sycamore, scanning the area around him intently.  Moving quietly and cautiously, Daniel approached Teal'c's position from the side.  Not wishing to be blasted with a staff weapon accidentally, he gave a quiet little bark as he came into view.

Teal'c saw him immediately.  He triggered his radio, speaking softly.  "O'Neill.  Lucky has made contact with me.  He appears to have come from the northwest."  He paused, listening to Jack's response.  Because they were using ear pieces, Daniel couldn't hear the other side of the conversation.  "No, Major Carter is not with him.  ...  Very well, O'Neill."  Teal'c released the radio and called to Daniel in a low voice.  "Lucky, heel."

Daniel trotted over to him, guessing that Jack would be joining them soon.  Teal'c gave him a deliberate pat to the head.  "You are a good dog, Lucky," the Jaffa stated solemnly.  Daniel gave Teal'c an equally solemn lick to the hand, thinking as he often did that SG-1 would be lost without the former First Prime.

A minute later Teal'c's radio gave a subdued click and Jack stepped into view, slipping silently over to them.  He squatted down in front of Daniel, scrubbing a vigorous greeting to Daniel's head as Daniel jumped up, paws on Jack's legs, licking at the man's face.  "Hey there, Lucky-boy," he whispered.  "Where's Carter?  Huh?  Where's your mistress?"

Daniel leaped away from him, running back the way he had come, giving a play-bow, and running a little farther.  He stopped and looked back.  Jack gave a raised-brow look to Teal'c who nodded in agreement.  With no further ado, the two military men took off after Daniel.  Daniel ran on, going slower now so the others wouldn't lose him, the two men moving as quietly as they could, ducking and running through clearings, keeping to the tree-lines as much as possible.

Daniel was in a hurry to get back.  He didn't want the Dark One to give up on subterfuge and simply bring the hillside down on Sam, burying her alive in the cave.

It wasn't long before they left all the Guardsmen behind and they ran openly, making good time back to Sam.  As they approached the hill, Daniel took a look in the spirit world.  The Dark One had moved from the other side of the hill, but wasn't going this direction and had not vacated his victim, the Sun Chief.  Daniel dropped back to the earthly plane with a shake of his head.  Once he reunited all of SG-1, it would be up to Jack to decide how to deal with the ‘Chief.'  He only hoped there would be no bloodshed.

Following the 'marks' he had left on the outgoing trip, Daniel ran up the rocky hillside, barking, Jack and Teal'c growing increasingly confused as they still saw no sign of their missing teammate.  Daniel stuck his head in the tiny cave, breathing in Sam's scent as she crawled over to pat him, laughing her praise, "Good boy!  You did it!  That's my boy!"

"Oh you gotta be kidding me," Jack muttered.  He shoved Daniel over to peer in the rocky opening.  When he saw Sam giving an apologetic wave, he leaned toward Daniel and cupped his ear, saying loudly, “What’s that ya say, Lucky?  Little Timmy’s stuck down the well?”

“Funny, sir,” Sam intoned humorlessly.

Jack peered around.  "Dare I ask how you got in?"

"I got in from the other side of the hill."

Jack squinted into the sky.  "Anything to do with that column of smoke?"

"Yes, sir."

“Well, nothing a little C-4 can’t solve.”

“I'm not sure of the stability of this rock…”

“Very little, Major," Jack said, his pack already on the ground.  He pulled a brick of the plastic explosive C-4 out.  "Minute,” he specified, holding up a closely spaced thumb and forefinger in demonstration.

When Jack cut a small amount off and started to place the charge, Sam, her voice devoid of apology, said, “Pass it to me, sir.”  As good as Jack was with guns of all kinds, Sam was the SGC's universally acknowledged Queen of C-4.  Jack passed it to her with a put upon sigh.

As she placed the charge, she could be heard muttering, "Not like I've had much else to think about here the last hour..."  When she'd finished with the charge, and inserted the trigger, Jack backed up, unspooling the wires.  After an agreed upon sixty seconds, Jack, after firmly ordering Daniel to heel, shouted, "Fire in the hole!  Literally!" and twisted the trigger.  There was a small _crump_ , Daniel leapt barking to the smoky hole, relieved to see Sam crawling out.  Teal'c, coming back from his perimeter patrol, helped her.

As Sam shed her dirty wet clothes down to her athletic bra and briefs, none of her team members paying any attention to the impromptu striptease, she described being chased into the cave and the resulting pyre.  Jack and Teal'c wrung her clothes out, twisting hard, a piece at a time, a steady rivulet of dirty water running downhill.  Sam sat in the sun hugging Daniel, slowly warming up, Daniel licking her scraped hands clean, hoping these new scrapes on the just-healed ones wouldn't leave her with scars.

"But, Carter, why?" Jack asked, handing the still-damp but at least not sopping clothes back to Sam.  "What the hell happened?  One minute Teal'c and I are having a blast shooting arrows, and next, we’re surrounded and being backed into a corner."

"Sir, I just don't understand," Sam said, giving her pants one last shake.  "I was making good headway analyzing the soil samples.  It looks like SG-8 was right, the foothills there are rife with--"

"Carter!"

"Oh, right.  Anyhow, the Sun Chief rested under a tree for little bit.  When he got up he said he had vision that I was evil.  He ordered his people to kill me.  I don’t really think they liked the idea, but no one argued with him." 

Jack lent her a t-shirt and a pair of socks.  But she had to make do with her still-damp boots, pants and jacket.

"Let's just get out of here," Jack said.  "We'll let SG-9 sort it out."

They set out for the Stargate, Jack making them circle far out of their way to avoid the townspeople.  Daniel wished he could've told him it wouldn't do any good.  The Dark One knew exactly where they were, and his people would only become more convinced their Chief had some kind of extra power the more extraordinary feats he accomplished.  All Daniel could do was scout as far ahead as Jack would let him, hopefully giving the team leader a little extra reaction time.

They were still several kilometers from the 'Gate, however, when an obsidian tipped arrow thunked into a sycamore bole beside Jack’s head.  SG-1 regrouped according to Jack's barked orders, Teal'c falling back from point, Sam and Jack standing close, weapons drawn.  Daniel rejoined them, having slunk back through the bushes, cursing the tailwind that had prevented him from scenting the waiting natives.

Squads of Guardsmen stepped out, in front and behind them.  The team was completely surrounded.  Clusters of townspeople hovered on the outskirts of the confrontation, whispering in consternation.

"Folks, ya know encores are never as good as the first performance," Jack called out.  "So--”

“Death to the demons who would destroy us!”  The Sun Chief moved forward, arms gesticulating as he continued, "They are all demons!  All must be killed!"

"No!  Please hear me!" Sam begged, looking not to the Chief, but to the townspeople.  "If you believe us to be evil, we will leave and never come back.  But I swear we meant only good."

"Damn it, where's Daniel when you need him," Jack muttered, then spoke up, "She's right.  We only came here to trade in good faith."

"The first group of Tau'ri caused you no harm," Sam said. "If my testing of the soil violated some--"

"Evil!  You are nothing but evil!" Notch'taw shouted, the Dark One not even trying to make sense anymore.

One of the bolder of the townspeople, a nobleman by the look of him, frowned at his leader in concern.  “My Chief, these Tau'ri were judged to not be the evil gods of past times.  Why must the righteous penalty strike down the blameless?”

"Good question," Jack barked.

"You dare to question me?" the possessed man bellowed, spittle flying.  His followers stepped back, more fearful of their erstwhile Chief now than any off-worlders.  "You are worms compared to me!  I decide who is blameless!  I decide who lives and who dies!  My penalty will strike all who oppose me!"  Mouth foaming and dripping, his voice rose to a scream, "Do you understand?  Do you hear me?  All!"  His budging eyes showed white all around, and his face was red and blotchy.  He pulled a black stone knife from scabbard.  It was ornate, probably ceremonial, but it was sharp and he held it high.  "Who opposes me?" 

The Chief's entourage fell away, dumbfounded in dismay.  "He is possessed," the nobleman said shakily.

~Yes, exactly,~ Daniel thought, relieved, aiming his thoughts at the Suss'risa.  ~You've lost this round, time to vacate the premises.~  But Daniel's relief turned to horror.

The Dark One apparently did know it had lost, Sam was too well protected to be reached at this point.  But it could hurt someone else.  Notch'taw brought the knife down, stabbing himself.

Shocked into immobility, no one moved.  “Jesus, what the hell?” Jack whispered.

With everyone else at a loss, Daniel moved closer, the smell of pooling blood overpowering, hoping to somehow help the true Chief.  The Dark One looked straight into Daniel’s eyes and cursed him in an unknown language.

Daniel stiffened and looked with his inner eye. 

As blood loss weakened the physical body and death approached Notch’taw, the Dark One began to ooze out of the stricken man, sending its dark miasma upwards to safety.

Daniel was overwhelmed with sudden anger.  Using this innocent man, killing him for no reason--as part of a game.  Just because SG-1 was on this planet.

In the spirit world he couldn’t see the actual blow, but he knew the Dark One had made one last killing stroke with the knife.  The shock to Notch’taw’s aura was intense and irrevocable.  He was as good as dead.

Notch’taw’s life blanked out and fled, his soul unmooring itself from its corporeal body like a ship casting off from a pier.  And his murderer prepared to follow along with him.

Contempt radiated from the Dark One.  And blinding fury from Daniel.

Daniel…struck out at the dark spirit.  Blocked it.  Pushed it.  Trapped it.

The angry Suss’risa’s contempt turned to surprise and panic.  Its link to the man’s soul was gone, somehow broken by Daniel.  So too was its link to its own astral plane, severed, blocked.  The physical form Notch’taw left behind became a prison of meat and matter to the Dark One.

[ ](http://s71.photobucket.com/albums/i121/PattRose1/A%20Dogs%20Life/?action=view&current=evilpage42.jpg)

Daniel could see it flailing in surprise, beating at the confines of its prison of dead flesh, unable to animate the body on its own.  It must have done the same with the bear, following the dying creature’s soul out of its body.  It was a parasite with no instinct for life.  The bloated mass of foul wrongness shrank, pinging like a sour pinball.  The part of the dark Suss’risa that had already escaped hung like an aimless cloud, bereft of purpose, intent, intellect.  Dissipating, it was torn and blown away in the astral wind, the only emotion Daniel detected one of amazement.  Amazement at Daniel: the base creature it had underestimated.

God, what had he done?  And how?  He thought of Kheb, Oma Desala brushing her hand against his cheek.

The spirit in the dead body jabbered in madness.  What would happen to it?  When the body rotted, would it escape then?  Or would it rot with it?  Or burn with cremation or embalming fluid?  Pass away with its prison as a brief smell of filth, barely registering on the material world before being forgotten in the wholesome rush of life and love…

Daniel shivered, returning to that wholesome world, his world, with a whimper.  He found himself still crouching near the Chief's body.  A woman knelt over the corpse, keening, her face contorted with grief.  Sam crouched next to Daniel, her arm curled protectively over him.

The rest of the mission passed in a blur.  For once Daniel let himself act on pure instinct, let himself be and act as the dog that Jack and the others believed him to be.  He found he couldn’t bear to look at Notch'taw’s body even with purely corporeal eyes, knowing the horror it contained.  The idea that he could so destroy an entity, however much it deserved it…  His mind shied and he retreated once more to his Lucky persona, pacing Sam as she spoke words of forgiveness and condolence to the townspeople.

When they returned to Earth, Sam was put on downtime to give her once again raw hands a chance to heal.  Daniel had four days until he needed to go back to Alutia and reclaim his body, and he used this time to the fullest.  He had never been one for vacations, too much work: going to school, earning a degree, securing grants for the next dig, saving the planet.  Now, he had literally nothing to do.  Just eat, sleep, play.  He began to understand Jack's recipe for the perfect vacation, although for Jack it would eat, sleep, fish, drink beer.


	8. Aftermath

Daniel double and triple checked the calendar.  Today was the day.  He planted himself in the Embarkation Room, stared at the Stargate and whined softly.  People came and went, but he didn't budge.  When Sam was called in, he looked from the 'Gate to her and back again, whining and wagging his tail, with an expectant twitch of his furry brows.  When Jack joined her, Daniel continued his act.  Eventually Jack and Sam got the gist of what Daniel was trying to tell them and asked the General for permission to return to P3S-931.

“Colonel, do you know how much it costs to open that wormhole?” Hammond asked.

“But Lucky’s really, really gotta go.”

“Sir,” Sam said quickly, forestalling the General’s ire, “it might be related to Dr. Jackson.”

The General scowled at her in outright disbelief.  “In what way?” he demanded.

“I--I’m not sure, but I believe it to be true.”

Jack said, “General, the next check-in is in a few days anyway.  So we go a little early.”

The scowl didn’t budge.  He fixed Jack with a glare.  “Do I need to remind you, Colonel, of how very unamused certain parties would be if they discovered the SGC’s mission profiles were being dictated by a dog?”

Jack pantomimed locking his mouth shut.  “My lips are sealed, sir.”

Hammond’s brows rose up his bald pate skeptically and he stalked away, saying curtly, “Gear up, SG-1.”

As the 'Gate dialed, Daniel vibrated with excitement.  He jumped through the wormhole first and bounded about, wild with barks.  He led the way to town, doubling back frequently to let those tiresome bipeds catch up.  Passing through the town of Alutia and arriving at the temple, he charged straight in.

“Hey, are dogs allowed in there?” he heard Jack asking behind him.

Sniffing determinedly, Daniel darted among the thick wooden pillars, ignoring the startled looks of the acolytes and laypeople.  He had a pretty good idea what he himself smelled like having stuck his nose in his own locker at the SGC one day out of curiosity.  But right now he couldn't catch a whiff of his combination of musty books and coffee.  Okay, no him yet.  Maybe the Suss'risa was still on its way. 

To the tune Sam and Jack apologizing to the temple staff in his wake, Daniel followed his nose through an entry to find High Priest Isedore in a little work room, stretching the skin of a new ceremonial drum.  When the man looked up Daniel gave him a bark. 

The Priest regarded him with caution, standing up slowly.  The rest of SG-1 caught up with Daniel and Isedore asked, “Colonel O'Neill, how may I assist you?”

“Well, the dog we borrowed from here wanted to come back,” Jack explained.

“You left our world with this dog?”

“Yeah.  So, any news of Daniel?”

Daniel barked, staring hard at Isedore.

The Priest returned the stare with dawning comprehension.  “…Dr. Jackson?”

Daniel barked in agreement.

“Uh, yes, Dr. Jackson,” Jack confirmed impatiently, misinterpreting the Priest’s comment.  “Any other Daniels get kidnapped from here recently?”

“No--I--no.  Please, sit and let us speak.”

“Okay,” Jack agreed slowly.

Isedore promptly resumed his cross-legged seat on the floor, pushing animal hides and wooden implements out of the way to give the others room to sit.  Sam and Teal'c joined him but Jack, scowling, pulled a little stool over.  The High Priest then explained about the Suss’risa.  It sounded very similar to the 'explanation' he'd given Daniel two months earlier: vague and full of euphemisms about 'changing spiritual viewpoints,' and Daniel was not surprised to see Jack's eyes glaze over.

When the Priest had finished, Jack looked at him brightly.  “That’s fascinating,” he stated enthusiastically.  “And yet, completely off-topic.”

“No, Colonel, no, I’m afraid it is very much the topic,” Isedore contradicted, growing a bit frustrated.  "The Suss'risa sometimes seek a worldly, corporeal experience.  And human applicants seek time on the spiritual plane.  The Suss'risa need the applicant's permission, but they have a very broad definition of that.  When Dr. Jackson came to the temple, they considered him an applicant and acted accordingly." 

Sam frowned.  "They, the spirits, they're real?  And they thought Daniel was offering himself?"

“I did not realize Dr. Jackson did not understand the consequences of his inquiries," Isedore continued, glad someone finally seemed to understand him.  "During the ceremony, a Suss’risa obtained control of Dr. Jackson’s form, displacing his spirit."

"Whoa!  What?"  Jack looked back and forth between Isedore and Sam.  "You're saying one of the Sissy spirits took over Daniel's body?"

"Yes."

As Jack shook his head in disbelief, Sam said slowly, "So when we thought Daniel was being kidnapped and we chased him to the Stargate, we were actually chasing...?"

"The Suss'risa and its attendants."

"Not that I believe any of this, but if it's true, where's Daniel?" Jack demanded.

The Priest looked significantly at the dog.

Sam followed his gaze and suddenly gasped, her face stunned and pale.  “Daniel?”

Daniel gave one bark.

“Yes,” Isedore confirmed, “I believe so also.”

“Huh?” Jack said.  "The dog is--is--?"

“But how?  Why?” Sam asked.

"I was not privy to their exact reasoning, but the Suss’risa and the Doctor seemed to discuss a danger of some kind and the need to guard a comrade.  However, as I could not comprehend Dr. Jackson’s words and the Suss’risa did not enlighten me, I am not sure of the nature.  I do know it instructed Dr. Jackson to return in sixty revolutions of this planet.”

Daniel barked in agreement, wagging his tail.

Reluctantly, Isedore said, “It returned two days ago.  Not finding you, it claimed your corporeal form and left again, I do not know where.”

Daniel shook his head, not believing him, refusing to believe him.

“Two days ago?” Jack asked.  “Carter, how long since we were here?”

“We were here April 14th.  This is June 13th.”

“So we’re a day early?”

“No, April has thirty days, May thirty-one.”

“So it’s been exactly sixty days.  It cheated?  That Sissy thing?”

Slowly, with an expression of dawning horror, Sam said, “No, sir.  Sixty Earth days.  This planet has the equivalent of a 22 hour day.  So…”

Jack, Sam and Teal’c stared in dismay at one another, then turned to all look down at Daniel.

“So the cumulative difference amounts to a subtraction of 48 hours.  We should’ve returned after 58 Earth days.”

Daniel collapsed to his haunches with a thump, blinking stupidly at the blank wall.

“Son of a fucking bitch!”  Jack grabbed Isedore by his vestment collar, pulled him off the floor and shoved him against a wall.  “This is unacceptable!”

Isedore didn’t struggle, simply stared sadly.

“You lied to Daniel!  You stole his body!  Then you lied to me!”

“Colonel, the Suss’risa do as they please.  We have no control over them.”

“Wrong!  You should’ve told us.  If not before it left, then after!”

“I could not.  I am bound by rules.”

“Well, so’m I!  Rules that say you don’t betray a friend.  Or desert him.  Now get that Sissy thing’s ass back here right now!”

“I do not control them--they come and go as they please--”

“You tricked him, now fix it!”

“I cannot!”

Daniel got up, his mind numb, Jack’s anger and Isedore’s regret nothing but white noise fading behind him.  He walked slowly out the room and through the temple, toenails clacking on the polished floor, hanging head pointed nose down.  He emerged into the sunlight, the world wide and gray, sounds sharp, smells varied and strong.  This was it.  This was his life, now and for the next ten years, when he would die of old age in a veterinary clinic somewhere.

Daniel looked on the spiritual plane, but didn't see any Suss'risa, hostile or otherwise.  Were they around to be seen?  He hadn't actually paid attention before.  He'd seen the auras of his fellow humans and the Dark One, but had he ever noticed if he could see the Suss’risa who'd taken his body?  Well, the air could be thick with them now, it didn't matter.  His corporeal form was gone, the Suss’risa who'd taken it was gone.  None of the other spirits could do anything to him.  Or anything _for_ him.

He huffed a breath out and picked his way down the stairs, Sam’s light-footed steps sounding behind him, her scent comforting in his nostrils.  They walked slowly, silently back toward the Stargate, Teal’c joining them soon, Jack catching up with them right before they reached the top of the hill.  The team leader still smelled of simmering anger, but since he didn’t smell of fresh blood, Daniel assumed Isedore survived.  Not that he could bring himself to care.  He sat as they stood for a silent moment at the Stargate, probably exchanging looks at each other over his head that he couldn’t be bothered with.

“Dial it up, Carter,” Jack ordered.

When the wormhole engaged, Daniel didn’t move.

“Come on, Luck--Daniel, let’s go.”

Daniel snuffed a tired breath.  What was the point?  What was on the other side that was any better than here?

Boots scuffled in front of him and Jack came into view, hunkering down.  “Hey,” he said gently.  “Let’s go home, huh?”

Daniel snuffed again, not raising his eyes above the boots, but he hauled himself to his four paws and followed his team through the gate.

***

Sam stepped out of the wormhole with her team: her full team.  All four of them came to a stop on the ramp, even Teal'c showing the bewilderment and distress they all felt.

General Hammond waited for SG-1 at the base of the ramp.  He eyed the dejected posture of 'Lucky,' the closed-off expressions of the humans.  “Colonel?  Your mission?”

Jack only stared.  “Um…”

“Did you learn anything regarding Dr. Jackson?”

“…Yeah…”

“Is he--" The General looked alarmed.  "Is he alive?”

“Yes.  Sort of…  I mean, yes.”

“Colonel!”

“Sir, you’re gonna need to be sitting down for this.”

A lesser man would’ve heaved a great sigh.  General Hammond merely gazed with resignation at his trouble-magnet flagship team, then turned and marched off to the briefing room.

Sam and the others walked slowly down the ramp, letting the dog, letting _Daniel_ walk at his own pace.  He chose to walk at Sam's side. 

Daniel.  God, she couldn't believe it.  These last two months...  Part of her was angry at his deception, but part of her, most of her, knew he must have had a reason.

They silently entered the briefing room, Daniel walking directly under the table.  The others seated themselves, joining Hammond.  The General allowed them to gather their stunned wits before gently saying, "All right, Colonel, I'm sitting.  Please proceed."

Jack didn't speak.  He placed his hands carefully flat on the table, staring at them.

"Does Dr. Jackson's disappearance have something to do with the dog?" Hammond prompted after a moment.

Jack glanced over at him.  "General, Daniel _is_ the dog."

Hammond sat thunderstruck.  "Doctor...  The _dog_?!"  He shook his head as if to clear it.  "But--how?  Why?  ...What...?"

Jack sighed.  "We don't really know how.  That priest guy, Dumbledore, said these spirits things can take over people's bodies.  Said they had some ceremony on our first visit, that Daniel didn't understand what was going to happen."

He fell silent and Teal'c took up the narrative.  "The Suss'risa spirit...commandeered Daniel Jackson's form and used a false kidnapping to leave the planet.  Daniel Jackson was told he would be restored to his body in 60 days.  Unfortunately he miscalculated." 

There was a small shifting sound from under the table, and Jack leaned down.  “If it’s any consolation, Daniel, I would’ve made the same mistake.”

Daniel made no response and Teal'c continued, "Earth days are longer than the days of P3S-931.  Today we arrived two Aluant days late.  The High Priest states that Daniel Jackson's body is forfeit and the Suss'risa will not return it."

There was silence from all at and under the table.  Hammond had recovered control of his features and asked steadily, "But why the dog?"

Sam spoke up.  "That part we don't really know.  Isedore said the Suss'risa and Daniel discussed some kind of danger, but the Priest wasn't told what exactly it was."

Jack scooted his chair back and peered under the table again.  "Daniel, do you think you could give us some kind of a clue?"

Complete silence.

"Or not..."  Jack scrubbed at this face.  "Okay.  Dumbledore said it sounded like the Sissy and Daniel were talking about danger from something."

"Another Suss'risa maybe?" Sam asked.

"Maybe," Jack agreed.  "And something about Daniel acting as guard to someone?"

Teal'c continued the thought, "So, Daniel Jackson, no longer having a corporeal form of his own, chose another form to inhabit?"

"At the risk of second guessing you," Hammond said, "are we truly sure this dog is Dr. Jackson?  What proof do we have?"

Jack again leaned down to look under the table.  “Daniel.  Come out.  I’m not playing with you here.”  His only answer was a low growl.  “If you’re Daniel, you’ll come out right now.  If you snap at me, I’ll know you’re just a dog.”  He reached down, immediately jerking his hand back with a curse.  Jack paused sucking at a finger long enough to announce, “It’s Daniel.”

Sam massaged her temples.  "Spirits that can possess a body.  Guarding someone.  No, not just someone, Isedore said a comrade, probably one of us, SG-1."  And in a flash the puzzle pieces snapped together in her mind and she gasped in sudden understanding.  “Oh god.  The bear.  My going off the path that first day.  It was one of them, one of the spirits that took Daniel’s body.  It was going after me, and Daniel stopped it."

"I believe you are correct," Teal'c said with a slow nod.  "Daniel Jackson would go to any lengths to protect a teammate."

"He did it for me, and now he’s…”  She broke off.  The shock of what Daniel had done for her, given up for her, was a physical pain.

The General spoke gravely into the ensuing silence.  "People, I tell you frankly I'm not sure how to proceed here."

"Have SG-9 return to the planet," Jack said, all quips gone, his voice as tired as his face.  "Talk to the Priest and anyone else they can find.  Figure out where the...thing's present location is.  If we can find it, maybe we can negotiate."

Hammond nodded.  "Very good, Colonel."

Sam scooted her chair back.  “Daniel, please come out.  There are computer programs.  I’ll rig something up so you can talk to us.  You saved my life, and I’m going to help you.  Please let me.”

Daniel crawled out, low on his belly, and Sam’s heart broke to see him so hopeless.  He looked up, but when she went to pet him as she would have done with Lucky, she stopped.  He sunk his head lower than ever, voicing a whine of misery.  She blinked hard, swallowing to clear her throat.  “Come to my lab and I’ll see what I can do,” she said thickly.  Not waiting for the General's permission, she stood and left the room, Daniel following at a slow plod, head hanging, tail tucked between his legs.  He was so exposed like this.  Every emotion was played out on his dog's body, unvarnished.

In Sam's lab, Daniel gripped his dog bed in his teeth and pulled it away from the workbench where Sam had placed it last month and dragged it into the shadows under a table against the wall.  He climbed into it and burrowed down among the blankets.

After some research, Sam found the computer equipment she wanted and requisitioned it on rush.  Then she sat there, not knowing what more she could do, staring at the sad brown shape against the wall. 

Daniel was alive.  He was alive and that was the best news in two months.  It was troubling, though, that he had been practically inseparable from her.  What had he heard?  What had she said, not knowing who was listening?  Had she let anything slip? 

God.  Sam closed her eyes, disgusted at herself.  Here she was mooning like a teenager when her dearest friend had sacrificed himself for her.  No, now more than ever she needed to keep the secret of her feelings for him.  Daniel was facing the destruction of his life as he knew it.  Even though he didn't return her love, it would be a burden to him right now.

She jumped when Jack came in bearing a tray of food from the commissary.  He set out a bowl of water and a plate of 'Lucky's' favorites, encouraging Daniel in a soft voice.  The rest of the food he offered to Sam.  She forced herself to eat, but it tasted like cardboard. 

"SG-9 leaves in the morning," Jack said, pitching his voice loud enough for Daniel to hear also.  "And I, uh, I told Siler and Harriman to spread the word about...you know."

Daniel crawled out of his nest, lapped a few swallows of water, then crawled right back in.

Sam tossed a half eaten tater-tot back to her plate.  "Thanks for the dinner, sir."  With a nod and a sigh, Jack gathered her dishes up and left.

When she left the lab for the night, she offered Daniel to join her in her on-base quarters, her voice halting and tentative.  There was no response.

***

The next morning entering her lab, Sam caught sight of Daniel slinking out of the adjoining restroom.  He headed straight back to his 'nest.'  She didn't see him again until Teal'c came in with breakfast, setting Daniel's share down, then seating himself cross-legged on the floor.  Sam joined him, snagging a piece of bacon, her appetite a little better this morning.  The Jaffa spoke calmly of inconsequential matters as he ate, and when Daniel came out to drink some water, he ate a couple mouthfuls of scrambled eggs.  Before Daniel dove back into his bed, Teal'c calmly and matter-of-factly removed his harness.

Janet came in a bit later, crouching down and trying to coax Daniel out.  She proposed taking him to the Infirmary to give him an MRI and a few other tests.  He ignored her utterly.  The hurt was plain in her voice as she asked, "Daniel, how can we help you if you won't let us?"  Her only answer was silence.

Janet and Sam brainstormed for a hour, trying to think of what tests might be helpful in these unusual circumstances.  They didn't come up with much.  Janet left and Sam sat there, feeling more useless than she had in her entire life. 

Then Siler wheeled in a couple big boxes.  It was the equipment she had ordered.  Tearing open the boxes, pulling stuff out, hooking it up, Sam felt a little hope growing.  This she knew.  This hardware, these physical objects.  Solid things that she could manipulate, talents she could contribute.  She forced herself to speak out loud as she set the system out, trying to instill some confidence in Daniel.  He didn't come out, but she saw him shift a little, and gold-flecked brown eyes briefly peeked out of the blankets to see what she was doing.

When the rest of SG-1 and General Hammond entered her lab, she had set out a large flat keyboard, like a game mat, on the floor.  As the others listened she explained to Daniel what she had in mind.

"This system was designed to help people with impaired motor skills to communicate," she said, directing her overly cheerful remarks to the unmoving ball of blankets under her table.  "The keyboard switches between various setups, regular keyboard letters, common words and the like, using the Alt, Control and Shift keys.  It's hooked up to this screen," she continued, pointing at a new oversized monitor on her workbench, "so we can all see what you're typing.  I’m turning off autocorrect, because we can't be sure the program will know what word you might mean.” 

She paused, the ball of blankets blinking at her, but not moving. 

"Aw, c'mon, Daniel," Jack coaxed.  "You know you're dying to tell us what happened."

With a resigned snuff Daniel slunk out into the open, his brown coat already looking a little dull with the lack of his normal activity.  He stood at the mat, sniffing it, an act which might've seemed funny under other circumstances.  He tiled his head and squinted, then, using his nose and paw, Daniel began to laboriously type, the script immediately appearing on the large monitor.

‘sss took my body’

“The Suss’risa?” Sam asked.  "It took over your body like Isedore said?"

Daniel nodded his head

"Was he right?  Did you not understand what would happen?" Jack asked.  "Or did they trick you?"

Daniel sighed.  'no trik'

Jack looked disappointed at the prospect of not beating anybody up.

Daniel continued, typing in silence for a long stretch.  ‘saw bad sss – it aftr S – needd 2 stop it – dog only choic’

“A second Sissy, a hostile one, it was after Carter?" Jack asked.  "Why though?”

Daniel cocked his head and shook it.

“You don’t know?”

Daniel nodded.

“Why did you choose a dog?” Hammond asked.

Daniel stared at him, then typed, ‘not me – sss choos – my choic S liv or die’

Sam found she couldn’t speak and Teal’c interpreted the words out loud, “The spirit chose the form in which you were placed.  Your choice was either watching Major Carter die or helping her.”

The dog continued, ‘stopd it – stopd bear – it stil ther – follw thru sg’

Jack and Hammond looked at one another in alarm.  “This entity was here, on Earth?” Hammond demanded.

Daniel nodded.

“Is it still here?” the General asked, his alarm growing.

Daniel shook his head.

“How do you know, Daniel?” Sam asked.  “How can you tell?”

The dog paused.  ‘can c sss world – can c’ he paused again, then, very deliberately, typed, ‘souls’

“Holy Hannah,” Sam breathed.

“You can see people’s souls?” Jack asked in amazement.  “Damn, I knew old Gramps Coventry was right.  Dogs can _so_ see ghosts.  Can you see mine?  What does it look like?”

Daniel’s tail gave a twitch that Sam interpreted as the involuntary smile Jack often provoked in his friend.  He stared at Jack in an unfocussed way that Sam realized she had occasionally noticed in Lucky.  ‘brite’

Jack pumped a fist.  “Yes!  I knew I was bright.”

“Please continue, Dr. Jackson,” the General said, glaring Jack into submission.

‘i guard S – stay close – bik’

“‘Bik’?  Oh, bike!” Sam said.  “Wait, bike as in motorcycle?  That was the Suss’risa?  That caused the other biker to almost hit me?”

"Wait," Jack said.  "What bike?"

"I, um, went for a ride on the Indian and--"

"And you went to the Deathtrap Rec Area, didn't you?  What did I tell you about that place?"

"And," Sam continued determinedly, "another biker came down the hill almost on my head.  If Luck--Daniel hadn't showed up, he would've.  He seemed dazed, said he didn't remember what happened."

"How did the Suss'risa do this?" the General asked Daniel.

'possess'

"Just like the bear?  It possessed the biker?" Sam confirmed. 

"The Priest Isedore stated the Suss'risa had a very broad definition of permission," Teal'c observed.

Daniel nodded.  ‘erthqk’ he typed.

“The earthquake on P1K-564?  Wow.”  Sam could only imagine how much power was needed to cause an earth movement of that magnitude.  To have such a lethal entity stalking her without her knowledge...

‘dgfite’

“Wait, the dogfight?” Jack said.  “What did that have to do with anything?”

‘2 stop me’

“That jerk that grabbed you,” Sam guessed.  “The Suss’risa used him to try and get you killed.”

“Son of a bitch,” Jack quietly cursed.  “Where is it now?”

‘kild it on 251’

They all exchanged a look.  “Did it go into Notch’taw?” Sam guessed.

Daniel nodded.

"Oh my god."  She felt sick.  That kind and friendly man, dead because of her.

“But you didn’t kill Notch’taw,” Jack said.

‘no – sss kild N – i kild sss’

“You killed it?” Jack repeated.  “The bad Sissy?  Really?  It’s dead and gone?”

‘ys’

“How?”

‘cmplctd’

“Complicated, huh?  Don’t worry, you’ll tell us when you’re back to normal.”

They all fell silent for a minute, digesting Daniel's story.  Then the General asked, "Dr. Jackson, is there anything more of a strategic nature you have to tell us?"

Daniel shook his head.

"Thank you, I'll be leaving then."  Hammond started off for the door, but stopped beside Daniel, looking down at him.  "But first let me say--"  He broke off, then took a breath.  "Doctor, I don't know what the future may bring, but your actions in this matter have been courageous.  You protected your teammate against great odds, and this facility, too.  In my eyes, you are a hero."

He turned and left immediately, leaving Daniel staring, brows twitching in his wake.  Sam found her eyes stinging and she turned her head, blinking the tears away. 

The Colonel cleared his throat.  "He's right, Daniel.  Ya done good."

With a weary whine Daniel slumped down to lie on the floor.

“Daniel, come on,” Jack coaxed.  “We’re getting you back.  Body and all.  Until then it’ll be better than before.  We know it's really you.  You can read, watch TV, lots of stuff.”

Heaving himself back up again, Daniel typed, ‘cant read – i's not work rite – tv hard 2 c’

Jack dropped his eyes.  “Danny…”

‘giv me away’

“What?  Daniel, we’re not dumping you off at the side of the road.”

‘as servic dg’

“As a service dog?”

‘injrd sgc’

“Give you away as a service dog to an injured SGC personnel?” Jack said.  “Daniel, it’s not going to come to that.  I won’t let it.”

‘wish u didnt no i me’

“You wish we didn’t know who you really are?” Sam confirmed.  “But, why, Daniel?”

‘not same – i not daniel – i not lucky’ 

His three teammates were silent. 

‘u wont touch me now’

Sam didn’t trust herself to speak, eyes stinging yet again.  As Daniel she didn’t often touch him, but as Lucky she couldn’t keep her hands off his soft fur.  If she missed the contact, she could only imagine how bad it was for Daniel.  How could she treat him as just a dog again, even a beloved dog?  Sleeping on her bed, playing catch, sitting at her feet dozing like a dumb animal while she worked on fascinating and fulfilling projects, human projects.

She could only hold her lips tight as Daniel slunk back into the shadows under the table.

***

The next morning the Colonel came into the lab with an update along with breakfast.  "Okay, not good news, but not bad either," he announced around a mouthful of waffle.  He picked up a sausage, fanning it in Daniel's direction.  "Hm, _sausage_ ," he intoned in his best Homer Simpson voice.

Daniel had come out to lap some water.  He eyed Jack with distain and made to return to his bed.

"C'mon, Daniel," Jack begged.  "For Lucky's sake."

It was a low blow, which Daniel made plain by his glare of reproach.  But it worked: Daniel swallowed the sausage down with one gulp when Jack dropped it on his plate.

"The news, sir?"  Sam took a sip of the orange juice that was all she let herself drink in front of Daniel, she and Jack having independently arrived at the decision to not torment Daniel with the sight or smell of coffee.

"SG-9 came back late last night.  Now, they didn't have any luck finding out where the Sissy is, but they're going to go back ASAP and keep trying.  They actually wanted to just stay on indefinitely, but Hammond doesn't want anyone sleeping on that planet."

Sam remembered the dream 'Lucky' had woken her up from that one night and shuddered. 

Unimpressed, their four-legged teammate went right back under the table and into his nest.

"Um, we've got calls out to our allies," Jack said, desperate to engage Daniel's interest or enthusiasm.  This tidbit did neither.  "Now, I admit, I'm not sure what good a Tok'ra healing device would do, but they might have intel."

Jack's forced chatter continued for a while, but you can only talk to a pile of blankets for so long.  Once he'd given up and left, Sam sat at her workbench, trying to figure out if there was anything she could possibly concentrate on, when she was surprised to see Daniel come out from his hideaway and pad to the doorway, looking back at her patiently.

"You--you want to go out?  Up top?" Sam asked.

He dipped his head in affirmation. 

She could guess why he needed to go out and exactly how embarrassing it must be for him.  Yes, he'd been using her bathroom when he thought no one was around, and he was very neat about it, but there were some actions for which a dog and a toilet were just not suited.

"Sure," she said, casually.  "Let's go."

Several times over the last couple days, Daniel's people from Anth/Arch approached her lab, lingering in the doorway.  Nyan had actually come in, glancing tentatively around.  But their brief conversation hadn't led to an appearance by Daniel and Nyan had soon left.

Now, Sam let Daniel set the pace as they navigated the corridors.  He trotted with singleminded determination, either not seeing or ignoring the curious looks they were getting.  A few people exchanged low-key greetings.  There was only one awkward moment, when Airman Reynolds, whom Sam knew smoked like a chimney, called out, "'Morning, Major.  Hey, Lucky-boy!  I'll catch you for my next walk, okay, dawg?"  The young man paused, expecting 'Lucky' to leap up licking and panting the way he usually would have.  In fact, Daniel's tail gave a jerky wag, and he looked almost longingly at the Airman.  Then another soldier gave Reynolds a hard punch on the arm and hustled him away, hissing fiercely in the confused man's ear.

Sam and Daniel continued stiffly on.

Outside the Mountain's entrance, the sunshine streamed down into the clearing that SG-1 had spent so much time with 'Lucky.'  Sam cleared her throat as she came to a stop.  "We, uh, we had a lot of fun out here this Spring."

Daniel leaned against her leg, nose twitching as he sniffed the air.  Sam placed her hand on his shoulder; not petting, just touching.  They stood that way for a long moment, Daniel turning his head, briefly pressing his wet nose against the bare skin of Sam's hand, breathing her in.  Then he broke away from her, moving off.

As he trudged away into the underbrush, Sam's breath suddenly caught in her throat.  He wasn't coming back.  He had decided to run off, she knew it.

"Daniel!"

He stopped, but didn't look back, only swiveling his ears toward her.

"I'll be right here," she emphasized, desperation coloring her voice.  "I'm not going anywhere.  I'll be waiting _right here_."

He stood for a moment, then continued on.  Exactly 6 minutes and 37 seconds later he returned, if anything slower and sadder than before.

"Thank you, Daniel," she whispered as they started back down in the Mountain.  He didn't respond or even look at her.  But they both knew what she meant.  "You won't regret it."  God, she hoped she could keep that promise.

***

Soon after lunch Sam was ordered to report to General Hammond.  She left Teal'c sitting by Daniel telling what she guessed were Chulakan fairy tales, meeting Colonel O'Neill going into Hammond's office just before her.

The General looked very serious as he said without preamble, “Colonel, Major, I’m afraid there’s interest in Dr. Jackson from some quarters.”

Jack frowned.  “Don't tell me, the NID.”

“There are some who see a military application in this--this transformation.”

His voice sharp, Jack said, “There are some who would see a military application in an apple pie.”

"Do tell, Colonel," an oily voice said from behind them.  "I'm always interested in the thoughts of a brilliant strategist like yourself."  Colonel Frank Simmons strode into the General's office.

Sam straightened automatically at the entrance of a superior officer, suppressing her equally automatic dislike of the unctuous man.  It was hard to know where to begin to explain her dislike.  Maybe the fact that he never appeared in uniform?  And she didn't think he was ashamed.  More like he considered such a thing akin to playing dress-up.  Maybe the fact that he was more politician than military man?  Rationally she knew many military personnel had to be politically astute, even General Hammond, but there was just something about the man's slick perfection at it.  Maybe the fact that he had secretly spied on her?  She gave a mental shrug.  There were lots of reasons to dislike Frank Simmons.  And she had the sinking feeling that she was about to add another reason to the list.

"Colonel," the General grated out.  "I don't recall giving you permission to enter."

"Apologies, General, but I'm on a tight schedule."

"Well, don't let us keep you, Simmons," Colonel O'Neill said.

"Don't worry, you won't."  He turned to Hammond and briskly laid a sheaf of papers on his desk.  "My orders, sir.  I'll be collecting the animal purporting to contain the consciousness of Dr. Jackson and leaving immediately."

"You can't do that!" Sam blurted out.

Simmons aimed his watery blue eyes at her, his fleshy face twisted with amusement.  "Did you say something, _Major_?" he asked.

"Yeah, she said you can't do that," Jack repeated, his voice deceptively conversational.

"I am repeatedly amazed by the SGC's insistence on playing turf-wars,” Simmons mused.  “This is a front-line installation.  You don't have the resources to devote to a long-term investigation.  The people at Area 51 do.  It is plainly in everyone's best interest to let the scientists in Nevada to do their jobs."

"And what exactly is their job?" Jack asked.

"Why, to get at the truth."

"We know the truth.  An alien stole Daniel's body and stuck him in a dog."

"That's a very interesting story," Simmons observed soothingly.  "But we require independent confirmation."

"The question is how to get him back where he belongs and we're not gonna figure that out in Nevada," Jack insisted.

"General Goldman and General Vidrine both think differently.  I believe you'll find their signatures on the documents General Hammond is currently inspecting with a fine-tooth comb."

Sam knew these names very well.  General Vidrine was attached to the Joint Chiefs in Washington.  General Goldman was in charge of the Groom Lake Research Facility, otherwise known as Area 51, although his public profile would probably place him at the nearby Nellis Air Force Base.

“I wouldn’t trust even a regular dog with you, Simmons, much less my best friend.”

"Don't worry, O'Neill, I brought a very reputable veterinarian with me."

The two men were of a height and they glared at each other, neither backing down.

[ ](http://s71.photobucket.com/albums/i121/PattRose1/A%20Dogs%20Life/?action=view&current=jackandsimmons.jpg)

"Colonel Simmons, you've made quite a habit of interfering in the affairs of my command," Hammond ground out.

"I did warn you, sir, about overusing that red phone," Simmons said with a smugness that bordered on insubordination.

"And I warned you: that interference may some day cost you more than you're able to pay."  Hammond, his every motion reflecting anger and reluctance, began to sign off on Simmons' paperwork.

"But not today," Simmons observed brightly.

"Sir?" Jack asked the General.

"The President's signed off on this," Hammond said shortly, his tone closed.

Jack made no more protest, confining himself to staring at the triumphant Simmons.

Sam glanced between her two senior officers in disbelief.  "But, sir, we can't just--"

Grabbing her arm, Jack cut her off.  "C'mon, Carter, we need to get Daniel ready."

Sam was so outraged by Jack's acceptance of the situation that he had hustled her out the door and a few yards down the corridor before she found her tongue.  "Colonel, I can't believe you're just going to sit still for this!"

"Carter, you know as well as I do that there's no way to stop this now.  All we can do at this point is damage control."  The elevator opened to reveal two Airmen.  "Out," Jack ordered.

"Damage control?" Sam asked with an edge she would not normally allow into her voice when speaking to a superior officer.  The two Airmen exited the elevator at a run.  "Once they get hold of him, we'll have no control."

"Carter!" Jack barked once the doors were closed and they were alone.  "You're an Air Force brat.  Your father was a General.  You know this game.  Vidrine's a Lt. General.  He outranks Hammond.  He works in the Pentagon and he has the President's ear.  Throwing a temper tantrum in front of Frank Simmons is not going to solve anything."

Sam had no answer to that.  She stood straight under her team leader's verbal reprimand, trying to keep her face blank, knowing she failed.  The doors opened on Level 19 and they walked silently to her lab.

The thought of Daniel, so vulnerable, at the mercy of that man...  Colonel O'Neill often claimed that his soul was stained with the darkness of his Special Ops past, but Sam instinctively knew Simmons' soul was infinitely darker, even if he had never pulled a trigger in anger.

In the corridor outside her lab were a civilian and several Airmen, along with an animal crate mounted on a trolley.  Sam felt physically ill at the sight, her thoughts flashing back to the night of the dog fight and the pit bulls being carted off to their deaths.  The group’s entry was blocked by the doorway-filling presence of Teal'c.

When Jack and Sam slid past the Jaffa, an Airman said, "Colonel, sir, I have orders to--"

"I know your orders," Jack snapped.  "Wait for your boss."  He went to the side table, crouching to peer under.  "Hey, Daniel," he said.  He was trying for a matter-of-fact voice, but Sam wondered if Daniel could hear the underlying tension.  "Come out a minute, buddy.  I need to talk to you."

There was no response.  Daniel lay obscured by his many blankets.  If Teal'c's presence didn't indicate otherwise, she might have thought the little nest empty.

"Daniel, enough!" Jack said sharply.  "I need you to--"

"Sir."  Sam laid a hand on his shoulder.  He subsided with a sigh and Sam took his place.  She took a deep breath.  She would cooperate.  For Daniel's sake.  "Daniel, could you come out, please?  There are," her voice caught, but she continued, "some people here who think they can help.  We're going to take you for some tests.  I'll stay with you the whole time, I promise."

The pile stirred, and two tired brown eyes peeped out, blinking.  Sam kept her breathing slow and steady.  She knew Daniel's canine senses could detect fear.  He hauled himself to his paws, slowly padding out of the shadows to join her.

"Okay," she said, encouraged.  "Just stay next to me.  We'll go together."  There was no way she was letting them put him in that cage.  She stood and turned to find Colonel Simmons regarding her with a condescending simper.

"Oh, I think not, Major," he said.  "Our flight is full."

"But..."  She swallowed her pride.  She couldn't afford to get angry, not with Daniel beside her, reading her every emotion.  "Sir, please, you can use my help."

"No, in fact I have no immediate use for you or your help,” Simmons said pleasantly.  “Although you're welcome to follow on your own, it's a free country."

"Simmons," Jack said.  "She's right.  She can keep Daniel calm.  You need her."

Amusement growing, Simmons said, "No, I think I need a muzzle and a kennel and I already have those."  He signaled to the civilian.  "Mr. Rogador, if you please."

The man grabbed a choke chain and leash from the cart and approached Daniel.  "Come on, pooch," he said.  "Let's go."

Whether it was Sam's suddenly soaring heart rate, or his own instinct for danger, when the vet reached out, apparently fooled by Daniel's seemingly passive nature, Daniel panicked, erupting with a viciousness Sam had only witnessed in the pit that awful night.  There was a flash of white teeth and Mr. Rogador jerked back with a cry, blood dripping from his hand.

"Daniel, please--!"  Sam's plea was lost in the sudden cacophony of Daniel's snarling growls and the vet's shouted orders to the Airmen.  An Airman passed a dog catching pole to the veterinarian. 

"Block it off!  Don't let it get under the tables!" Rogador shouted.

Daniel spun about trying to escape, the Airmen blocking his every turn.  The vet passed the pole loop over his head, tightening it immediately.  Daniel jerked to a halt in his heedless dash, caught like a fish on a hook, thrashing uselessly.

The vet passed the pole to an Airman, and pulled a muzzle out.  Daniel snarled and snapped, but the pole kept him isolated and harmless, and the vet, on his guard now, expertly slipped the muzzle over Daniel's snout, tightening it down, fastening it around his neck.  Daniel shook his head desperately, still growling, but there was no loosening the contraption.

"Okay, we got it now," the vet said.  "Open up the cage."

The Airmen put the kennel down, and, paws slipping, toe nails clacking as he desperately tried to find purchase to halt himself, Daniel was dragged across the floor by the vet.

And Sam simply watched, as helpless as Daniel himself.  Beside her, Jack’s face was a stony mask, his hand on her shoulder, either in support or to stop her from doing something stupid, something like helping Daniel, and for a second she hated him, she hated herself.

His vicious snarls echoing punishingly off concrete walls, Daniel was forced into the little cage, lost in a savage panic, not a trace of her mild friend left, but a true animal at the moment.

The vet released the pole loop and slammed the wire cage door.  Daniel continued to snarl and thrash, repeatedly launching himself at the door.  The kennel rocked wildly and when the Airmen placed it back on the trolley, they lashed it down with nylon straps.

"Well," Simmons said cheerfully.  "That went smoothly."  He nodded pleasantly to the shell-shocked remainder of SG-1.  "We'll be on our way, then."

Jack jabbed finger at Simmons.  “We’ll be right behind you and if you’ve hurt one hair on his head or his rump or anywhere in between...”

Simmons ignored him, Jack's threat trailing off futilely.

Rogador, wrapping a cloth around his bleeding hand, glared at the panicked shaped dimly visible through the wire mesh windows.  "Nice pooch, huh?" he asked sarcastically as he headed out the door behind the trolley.  "No wonder they want to eradicate that breed."

When the cage rolled out of the lab, the snarling stopped, replaced by a hair-raising howl, echoing down the hallway, receding as the trolley took Daniel farther and farther away from his teammates.

Sam was reminded of when Teal’c was taken away, sick with an alien insect sting.  That same guilty, helpless pit in her stomach.  But she had to admit, at least to herself, that she felt worse than with Teal'c.  Because she wasn't in love with Teal'c.

[ ](http://s71.photobucket.com/albums/i121/PattRose1/A%20Dogs%20Life/?action=view&current=page83.jpg)

Teal'c was thinking of the same incident.  "Three years ago, it was I who was led away, and you who watched me go, helpless to aid."  In a voice thick with shame he concluded, "I believe now that being the one left behind is infinitely worse."

The plaintive howl was cut off by the closing of elevator doors.

Numbly, she picked up a blanket that had been kicked out from under the table.

It was always Daniel who gave her permission to cry, to be human.  Who would do that now?  Not even with Janet did she feel completely comfortable with lowering all her guards. "I promised I'd stay with him," she whispered.

"Carter..."

She dropped the blanket, shaking her head.  No, she wouldn't let false sentiment cloud her right now.  Daniel needed her fighting for him, not mooning about things she had no control over.  She turned to Jack.  "I'm okay," she said.  "What now, sir?"

He gave her a tight smile of approval.  "Now we get Hammond to cut us some orders for Area 51."

"Orders?"

"By the book, Carter, we do this by the book.  I'll go see Hammond, get a flight lined up, you get packing.  Class A's, Carter."

"Sir, I'm not playing dress-up here!" she snapped, her thoughts going back to her earlier assessment of Simmons.

"Yes, Carter, you are.  We are dressing to intimidate.  Grubby BDUs are not going to impress anyone where we're going."

"What shall I do, O'Neill?"

Jack clapped a regretful hand to the Jaffa's solid shoulder.  "T, I want you to stay here."

Teal'c frowned.  "O'Neill--"

"Teal'c, last time we were at Area 51 with you we had the advantage, this time, totally different story."

"You believe I would hold you back."

"Not because of anything you'd do, but because of who you are.  Carter and I can fall back on Air Force protocol.  You, they may provoke and then they'd get two troublesome SG-1 members for the price of one."

"Sir, last time, when we recovered the Touchstone, the General mobilized a helicopter for us."

"Apples and oranges, Carter.  It was the second Stargate people were trying to locate then.  Everyone knows where Daniel's going.  They just don't care."

Sam couldn't stop an accusatory stare, but she knew he was right.  "Yes, sir."


	9. Nevada

Sam's life was reduced to numbers.  This was not really surprising considering her profession.  But these numbers weren't in the millions or billions as she was used to.  These numbers were so small.  Twenty minutes waiting for General Hammond to cut some orders.  One hour to swing by two houses to pack.  Forty-five minutes to drive to Peterson Air Force base to catch a flight to Groom Lake.

Eight and a half hours to cool her heels in the Peterson flight-control waiting room.

It seemed, mysteriously enough, there were no outgoing flights to Groom Lake, or Nellis, or even Edwards.  At least no flights with room for two more people.

At 2100 hours Jack strode back into the room from the hallway where he'd made a call to Hammond, snapping his phone shut as he walked.

"Anything, sir?" Sam couldn't help asking, even though Jack's closed-off expression told her everything she needed to know.

He dropped down into the molded plastic seat beside her.  "Well, Hammond's been on the phone so long Fraiser's prepping to have it surgically removed from his ear."

"Sir..."

"No joy, Carter," he said, scrubbing at his face.  "He never got through to the President.  Vidrine stonewalled him.  Everyone else in D.C. is in bed or asleep or both at this point."  He stared at the opposite wall, his face perfectly calm and expressionless, as it had been all this long day of arguing with a long line of self-important Peterson flight personnel.

How did Colonel O'Neill do it?  So contained, despite the anger Sam knew was simmering just under the surface.  Sam herself was holding on by an increasingly thin thread, mostly by staying quiet and letting the Colonel do the talking.  Not for the first time she thanked god that she and Jack had quashed their 'affair' in the bud, with no bad feelings on either's part.  Right now she didn't need a bitter ex-lover or even a coddling current lover.  She needed a trusted friend, a no-nonsense commanding officer, a mentor.

"Fuck it, we're driving," Jack suddenly announced.

She looked up from her glum study of the cracked linoleum floor.  "What?  To Nevada?"

"It's only 800 miles, give or take."

More numbers.  "But that's an eleven hour drive," she protested.

"Well, it's faster than walking at this point, since we don't appear to have an airplane."

She raised a brow.  "You told the Motor Pool sarge he'd have his car back by the end of the day."

Jack winced, his first show of emotion in some time.  "Tough.  He doesn't scare me.  Much."  He rose and went to the flight coordinator's desk, the man watching him approach warily.

"You said there might be a flight at 0600?" Jack asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Hold a couple spots for us.  We'll be back in the morning."

"Yes, sir.  Will do, sir," the Sergeant said with relief, glad to see the last of the two glowering officers who had haunted his desk all day.

As they left, Jack winked at Sam, and for the first time she felt a little hope growing.  Jack O'Neill could play politics with the best of them when he put his mind to it.

***

Jack took the first turn driving their black military SUV, and by midnight they were well on their way, turning left at Denver, twisting and winding through the Rocky Mountains.  Neither could stand the inane chatter of the radio right now, both sitting quietly with their own thoughts.

Sam's mind kept returning to Frank Simmons and his vendetta against SG-1.  She knew Simmons thought he had a handle on Teal'c, thought that 'betrayal' was the former First Prime's defining characteristic.  But the rest of SG-1 understood Teal'c had never betrayed anyone.  It was Apophis who had betrayed Teal'c and all the Jaffa.

And Daniel...  Daniel, Simmons simply did not understand.  He thought emotion was Daniel's weakness, he couldn't see that in fact it was Daniel's strength.  It didn't cloud his vision, but sharpened it, helped him to cut through to the moral heart of any conundrum.  Not that Daniel's path was without faults or dangers of course.

With a man like Simmons, what he didn't understand, he tended to fear.  And Daniel's contempt during briefings and interrogations didn't win him any points with Simmons.  The linguist's snark tended to cut with surgical precision, and Simmons had found himself under that particular knife one time too many.

Sam started when Jack broke the quiet with a sudden laugh.

Sam glanced at him incredulously.  "Is there something humorous in this situation, sir?" she asked stiffly.

"Sure is.  Remember when Daniel jumped up and licked the General right on the lips?"

Sam tried, but she couldn't stop a grin.  "Um, that sounds kind of weird when you say it that way..."

"And when he tagged Teal'c right on the ass with two muddy paw prints."

Sam giggled.  "And every time you tried to walk him on-leash..."

"Ah, god," Jack groaned, his legs tightening automatically to protect his groin.  "I am so getting payback for that."

They sat in silence for a minute, their grins gradually fading.

"We're getting him back, Carter," Jack stated.

Sam nodded and they drove on.

They traded off through the night, one driving, the other napping.  Jack, consummate soldier that he was, dropped off immediately when it was his turn to sleep.  Sam had trouble settling down, her imagination working overdrive, a mishmash of images overlapping, Daniel or Lucky, blue eyes or brown, man or dog, a friend in trouble, alone, hurting...

When the sun rose behind them, the mountains had rushed by, gentling, lowering, tall trees shortening, drying, yielding slowly to flat desert.

With the last few dozen miles to go, the two officers pulled in to a rest-stop.  Sam stripped down and took a sponge bath at the women's room sink, oblivious to the amazement of an exhausted mother and daughter heading out of Las Vegas.  She carefully applied her make-up and slipped into her formal Class-A uniform, the pantyhose and leather pumps feeling ridiculously out-of-place in the dry heat of the desert.

When they reached the first of Area 51's far-flung entrance checkpoints, she was back to counting numbers again.

Distance from Colorado Springs: 827 miles.  Time: 9 hours, 37 minutes (the Colonel drove like he was piloting a low-flying aircraft).  Getting from the first security station to the actual facility: one hour, 56 minutes (their reception at Groom Lake this time was a far cry from the friendly welcome tour Major Reynolds had given them a couple years ago).  Time spent donning jackets and caps, checking one another's appearance: approximately three minutes ("Into the fray, Carter.").  Time spent admiringly watching Colonel O'Neill throw his weight and his vaguely-worded orders around, and generally bullshitting his way to finding Daniel, 47 minutes ("I'm not in your chain of command, Lieutenant?  True enough, but is the President?").

Time for Colonel Simmons to ooze into the room and bring Jack and Sam's incipient triumph to a complete halt: one second ("Lt. Calderon, I'll be taking care of Colonel O'Neill personally.").

The Lieutenant, who had just risen to escort Jack and Sam to Daniel, sank back down into her chair with an ill-concealed sigh of relief.

Jack called out, "Frankie!" with mocking delight, but Sam could read the defeated sag to his tired features.  "And here I thought you'd gone back to D.C."

"Ah, but I knew you and the lovely Major would be visiting us soon.  I wanted to be on hand to show you our progress."  Then he added almost as an afterthought, "Once the initial four day observation period is up, of course."

Jack stepped up close to Simmons, asking slowly, "Four day observation period?"

Simmons smiled.  "Our scientists need some time to come to their own conclusions without interference from the preconceived notions of the SCG."

"If you think--!"

"It was all in my orders, O'Neill, if you'd bothered to read them.  You've got another three days to go before you can see your little four-legged friend.  Maybe the two of you could spend some time in Las Vegas?  Hmm?  As a couple?"

So that was the pigeonhole he was trying to shove the Colonel and Sam into.

Jack returned the feral smile.  "Tempting, but I think we'll stay right here."

Simmons shrugged.  "As you like.  I think there are a few guest quarters in the outer buildings.  Just make sure you don't stray into restricted areas."  He turned and strolled away, leaving Jack and Sam impotently standing there, just as far from Daniel as they had been in Colorado Springs.

Sam didn't have the heart to keep track of her numbers anymore.  At 2100 hours they had a lackluster meal in the commissary after a fruitless day spent trying to see General Goldman or his 2IC.  There was no cell reception out here, and no one seemed able or willing to get in contact with the SGC for them.

She crawled into the cheap polyester sheets of the guest quarters that night as defeated as Daniel had been crawling under the table in her lab.

She kept jolting up all night thinking she heard a dog howl, but hearing nothing when fully awake.  She missed that warmth at the foot of her bed more than she would've thought possible.  And she had never stopped missing the company of her friend.

She woke up thoughtful and when she and Jack met up for a breakfast even more lackluster than supper the night before, she announced to the Colonel, "Sir, I think we're going about this wrong.  We need to split our forces."

Jack raised his brows and choked down his mouthful of bone-dry muffin.  "Okay, I'm listening."

"There's no way in from the military side.  Maybe there is from the scientist side."

Half an hour later, Jack was back in officer territory, browbeating General Goldman’s secretary.

And Sam, she left the main military area of the base, heading into the 'scientist country' that Major Reynolds had show them last time she was in Area 51.  When the ratio of lab coats to BDUs was sufficiently high, Sam began to unobtrusively scour the women's restrooms.  Despite the humongous budget and the fancy labs, the bathrooms of the average military base somehow never seemed to progress through the decades along with the rest of any given facility.  The floors, the sinks, the toilets, could've been featured in an exhibit on 1940's plumbing, and there was always a ratty old wardrobe, often filled with--bingo.  Sam pulled a lab coat out of a listing wardrobe, shaking it out.  It smelled of Lysol, Draino, and whatever else was stored there, but it would do.  She was in her shirtsleeves and skirt, and when she pulled the coat on and buttoned it up, she easily passed for a mousy and nonthreatening scientist.  She pinned the finishing touch on: her temporary visitor's badge which she'd renewed that morning at the security check-in to read, 'Dr. Samantha Carter.'

Next, Sam walked aimlessly down the hallways, switching to 'blonde mode.'  This was a lovely relic of her time as Jonas Hanson's fiancé.  Whenever she had the temerity to disagree with whatever he happened to be spouting off about at the time, he would tell her, "Switch off the Blonde Mode, Sammie."  It took her a long time to realize he wasn't teasing.  He really thought she was a bubble-head when it came to anything other than her theoretical (and therefore unimportant) ivory tower astrophysics.  It still occasionally shocked her what a bad decision Jonas had been.  Trying to show Daddy what a big girl she was.

Now, Daniel was completely different.  He always listened to anything she had to say and loved the challenge of a good discussion if she disagreed with him over something--  She cut off the thought.  Daniel needed his _teammate_ right now, not a love-struck little girl.

She looked around the hallway.  Now she really was lost.  A woman in another lab coat walked by, giving Sam a smile.  Ratcheting up the blonde-ness, Sam widened her eyes and gave a tentative smile in return.  "I'm sorry, can you help me?" she asked.

"Sure," the woman said.

"I'm kind of lost," Sam admitted, biting her lip.  God, how humiliating.  What she wouldn't give to pull a P-90 out, spray the ceiling with bullets and demand to be taken to Daniel.  "Could you direct me to the lunchroom?"

The woman was happy to help her and they chatted about the military's penchant for maze-like architecture on the way.  Once she was dropped off in the civilian-filled commissary, she purchased a cup of Jello as a prop (they only had red, more's the pity), and proceeded to nurse it like the designated driver nursing a single beer, one slow slurp at a time.  She kept her eyes and ears open, occasionally changing tables.  Sometimes a man or two would come and ask permission to sit, and Sam would subtly pump them for information.  When it was clear they had nothing useful, she would causally let drop that she was waiting for her Master Sergeant boyfriend and she would magically be alone again.  This went on for an hour or so until she finally hit the jackpot.

A man and a woman sat down at the next table with their lunch trays.  When a third man joined them, he sat with an exaggerated sigh, saying "Oh man, I'm _dog_ tired."

Sam's ears pricked at the way he emphasized the word 'dog.'  The other two chuckled and the man continued, saying, "I tell you, this place is going to the dogs."

There was renewed laughter, the woman groaning and slapping her table-mate's shoulder.  "Gilbert, you do know that puns are the lowest form of humor, right?"

"Aw, that's a doggone shame."

More laughter.  As they began to eat, the man who'd sat first spoke with a Mid-Western drawl, "Of all the crazy assignments."

"As long as Uncle Sam's paying..."  Gilbert chewed philosophically for a moment.  "I'd say it's given me a new leash on life."

The woman groaned again and threw a lettuce-leaf from her salad at him.  "Stop!"

"Theresa, we all know your bark is worse than your bite."

Amid more laughter and protests, Sam cranked her inner blonde-ness to the max and approached the group.  "Um, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I'm kinda hoping you guys can help me?"

"Sure, sit down," the woman offered.  "This is Gilbert, Cedric, and I'm Theresa."

"Hi, I'm Samantha."

"What do you need?"

"Well, I'm not really sure," Sam said, doing the lip-biting thing again.  "I was assigned here for a special project, but no one seems to know where I'm supposed to be."

"Who's handling the contract, NID or Pentagon?" Gilbert asked.

"Um, it was a military guy..."

The three civilians rolled their eyes.  "Pentagon branch then," Gilbert concluded.  "Typical military blockheads."

"What's the guy's name?" Theresa asked.

"Timmons, I think.  He's, like, a general or a colonel or something."

"Colonel Simmons," Cedric said excitedly.  "He's overseeing our project.  What do you do?"

Sam thought hard for a second.  What would be most useful in the investigation a human consciousness trapped inside a dog's body?  "Oh, I capture and interpret electro-magnetic brain-scan imaging," she said, crossing her fingers under the table that the string of random words she'd just uttered would add up to something meaningful to this group.

"I knew it!" Cedric announced as the other two nodded.  "I bet you're supposed to be assigned to us."

Sam blinked, wide-eyed.  "Really?"

"Hey," Gilbert said.  "You'll like our lab.  We do it doggy-style."

This time even Theresa laughed at Sam's careful look of incomprehension.  "What do you mean?" she asked innocently.

Gilbert lowered his voice.  "We're not supposed to talk about this stuff outside the labs, but the project involves a dog."

"Oh.  I like dogs."

"Not this dog, you won't," Theresa said.  She lifted a bandaged finger and Sam noticed for the first time that Gilbert sported a similar bandage.

"This is good, though, having you here," Gilbert announced.  "Once we prove it's just a dog, we can move on to some real work."

"Yeah, and get that vicious thing destroyed," Theresa agreed.

Sam's stomach turned to ice and she sat still and silent as the others finished their meal, not trusting herself to speak.

"C'mon with us," Gilbert invited as they finally rose to dump their trays.  "We'll take you to the lab and introduce you to Dr. Ingco."

"Thanks," she said, gulping down the red sludge at the bottom of her plastic goblet.  They all left, and, with the three scientists as guides, Sam passed easily through several security checkpoints and finally through a door locked with a number keypad.  Inside was a large laboratory.

"Sorry about the stink," Gilbert apologized with a grimace.

It did smell.  The distinctive odor of dog excrement.  Sam saw him immediately.

Daniel stood on a low platform near the center of the room, a muzzle still encasing his face.  A leash led from his collar up to an overhead rod where it was tied, holding him upright tautly.  To keep him from sitting, his tail had been tied up and lashed tight to the same rod.  He had already lost weight before he’d been taken from the SGC.  Now he was a shadow of his former vibrant self, his coat dull and matted, his eyes, showing half-closed through the leather mesh, crusty and bloodshot.  The upright tail showed plainly that no one had been keeping him clean and he hadn't been allowed to clean himself.  A messy litter box in one corner explained the smell.

There were several sensor pads stuck to his body, registering his vitals on monitors being viewed by a grey-haired man who turned to Sam as she and the others walked up.

"Dr. Ingco," Gilbert said, "this is Samantha--"

"Ah, Major Carter," the doctor said.  "Welcome."

Even if she'd been inclined to continue the ruse, it was obviously unnecessary now.  "What exactly is going on here?" she demanded, the three lab assistants fading away in confusion behind her.

Dr. Ingco nodded causally at the readouts.  "Just gathering baseline information.  We are beginning to doubt that the dog has anything to do with Jackson.  We've seen none of the tricks you had it performing earlier."

Sam's face could have been carved from stone.  "Tricks?"

"Supposedly spelling out words and such.  We saw the video footage, but really now, how did you get it to do that?"

"We didn't 'get it' to do anything.  That is Daniel Jackson--"

"Or was it faked?" the doctor continued, ignoring her response.  "Was the dog pushing keys at random and someone else punching those words in?"

There was a muffled yelp and the monitors registered spikes in several categories.  Sam realized another lab technician stood alongside Daniel with a prod, the various leashes and leads rattling as Daniel jerked.  "What are you doing?!"

"Pain response," Ingco said simply.  "But back to my question--"

Sam had crossed the room and whipped the electric prod out of the astonished tech's hands before anyone could stop her.

"What the hell--?" the tech began.

Sam whacked the prod sharply against the floor and it broke in a satisfying shower of sparks.  "This experiment is over," she announced, slinging the now-useless piece of bent metal into the same corner the litter box occupied.

"Really, Major," Ingco remarked, mildly.  "This is my lab and my project.  If you wish to stay, I will welcome your input, but it will be under my terms."

Sam didn't answer him.  She kept up a steady stream of gentle nonsense aimed at Daniel as she released first his tail, then his collar.  "Daniel, it's me.  It's Sam.  I'm here, everything's going to be all right."  As Daniel stood trembling, she started to unbuckle the muzzle.

"Hey, you don't want to do that," Theresa called.  "It's a pit bull, for god's sake!"

Sam continued to ignore the other human inhabitants of the lab.  She ducked her head low, trying to catch Daniel's eye.  "I know I promised to stay with you.  I'm sorry it took me so long to get here, but I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere.  Daniel?"

Finally the dog met her eyes and she saw a spark of recognition.  She gently tugged the muzzle off, tossing it into the same dirty corner as the prod.  Daniel stepped up close to her, burying his snout into her neck and she knelt down, wrapping her arms around him.  They just sat there for a minute, he breathing her in, she holding him tight.

***

When Daniel first caught Sam's scent, he despaired.  Paradoxically, she was the person he most didn't want seeing him like this, yet the very person he most wanted to see.

Daniel seemed to be having trouble with people named 'Simmons' these days.  As much as Lt. Graham Simmons irritated him, Colonel Frank Simmons was infinitely different and worse.  This time he'd spent away from Sam and the rest of SG-1 was endless.  Cars or airplanes, desert or mountain, hallways or labs, none of it mattered.  Some part of him insisted he shouldn't give up, but the bigger part didn't see the point.  What was left?  He couldn't live like this, not with people who knew what he'd been, what he'd lost, but the government would never let him go. 

He couldn't stay with Sam, he'd resigned himself to that.  He couldn't bear it.  If he lived long enough to see Sam and Jack married, what then?  Would he be sent out to his doghouse for their wedding night?  No, he needed Sam and SG-1 to cut their losses.  "Daniel Jackson" was gone, they needed to move on.

Which was not to say he was cooperating with Simmons and Company.  Ingco and the lab techs had never really believed he was anything other than a regular dog, something to be tied down, kicked, prodded.  So that's just what he gave them: a dumb dog that growled and bit and performed no tricks.  The sooner they gave up the better. 

He couldn't escape, not any more.  Sam had begged and he couldn't do that to her.  So now there was only one way out.  He had accepted neither food nor water from these strangers.  He simply endured the hours and days, waiting for the inevitable.

Now, as he huddled in Sam's arms, Dr. Ingco walked over to them.  "I repeat, Major, I am willing to have you here to profit from your insight, but it will be on my terms and under my authority."

Daniel could feel Sam take a calming breath, felt her will her heart rate to slow.  It didn't fool him any more than it had when Simmons had initially taken him, but he appreciated her effort.

"Yes, Doctor," she said.  “Thank you, sir.  I will gratefully submit to your authority.  However, I respectfully ask that the application of pain no longer be used."

Daniel could sense the man's shrug, placated by Sam's subservient manner and formal language dignifying what was basically torture as far as Daniel was concerned.  Ingco had no real malice.  Just the implacable hubris that humans were the only creatures that really mattered on the Earth, and everything else was just put here to be used and exploited.  "Very well," the Doctor said.  "I think we've gathered all the data we need anyhow."

"Thank you," Sam said again.  She released her tight hold on Daniel, pushing him a bit away to see his face.  "You look a little worse for the wear," she remarked.  He was too tired to even give a lick to her smooth skin and he simply sat there while she cleaned off his eyes and face with a corner of the lab coat she wore.

As if her comment had been directed toward him, Ingco responded, "It refused to eat and tried to bite us every time we handled it.  Its condition is its own fault."

Sam's anger gave a spike of heat, but she continued speaking to Daniel, “You will eat, Daniel, and you will cooperate."

He ducked his head, trying to back away from her, but she pulled him back, cupping his face in her hands.  "Do you hear me, Dr. Jackson?  You will sit up and beg.  You will roll over and play dead, goddamn it, if that’s what it takes.  You will stay healthy."  She gave his head a little shake.  "This is not the end.  I'll be with you every second and we'll get you back home soon, I swear.”

"Oh, I wouldn't go making promises I couldn't keep, if I were you, Major."

Daniel shuddered in Sam's hands.  Him again.  Frank Simmons' voice held malice that was a corporeal echo of the Dark One, like Tino and Joshua's father at the dogfight, and Daniel was too weak to do more than huddle in Sam's protective arms.

"A detail of SFs will be here in a moment, I suggest you leave quietly for your doggy's sake."

"Colonel, I'm here in Groom Lake under orders from General Hammond," Sam stated.  "And I'm here in this laboratory at the invitation of Dr. Ingco."  Not exactly true, but Ingco didn't contradict her.  "Ordering an armed force into a civilian-run facility is your choice, sir, but I warn you, I will not be leaving quietly."

Simmons was taken aback, but recovered immediately.  "Big talk from a little major,” he sneered.  "I run this facility and it certainly _is_ my choice, and I--"

"She's right, Simmons," Ingco said, wading into the pissing match.  "The NID is a civilian oversight organization.  Just because you're attached to the Pentagon doesn't mean--"

"This is my project!" Simmons shouted.

"This is my laboratory!" Ingco returned.

"This is my dog!" Sam added firmly.

In vastly different circumstances Daniel would've laughed at the three-way turf war.  Of course in vastly different circumstances there wouldn't have been a turf war.  He sank down to lie on the floor, past caring.  They would come to whatever conclusion they would come to and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

Then a new voice rang out.  "Hey, Carter!  Look what the cat dragged in!"

It was Jack.  Daniel's head popped up, everyone turning to see the slyly grinning Colonel saunter through the doorway.  Behind him came General Hammond, not grinning exactly, but with an air of benevolent expectation.  Daniel blinked in confusion.  Okay, the General's a nice guy, but if he couldn't stop Simmons back at the SGC what good was he going to do...

Coming in after Hammond was another man.

It was...Daniel.

It was him, his body.  It was the Suss'risa.  It walked straight to him, everyone, even Simmons, even Sam, falling back.  Daniel sat up on his haunches and the Suss'risa crouched down.

"How are you, Dr. Jackson?"

~Peachy, thanks.  You?~

"I, and your body, are very well."

~Why are you here?  I know I missed the deadline.~

"I once stated that your body held a lingering sense of morality.  Although your form was forfeit, I found I could not so destroy your existence with the pedantic insistence of an arbitrary rule of law."

~Thank you.~

It smiled.  "Also, I confess, I and my faction were quite astonished upon the realization that you had ended the existence of one of our kind."

~Oh, yeah.  Sorry, but it killed Notch’taw and would've killed Sam.~

"We are not angry.  It chose its own path and paid the consequences.  We merely wish to understand how its destruction was accomplished."

~Actually, I'm not sure...~

"Open your mind, Daniel," it prompted gently.

[ ](http://s71.photobucket.com/albums/i121/PattRose1/A%20Dogs%20Life/?action=view&current=page94.jpg)

Daniel let the events of P99-251 run through his mind, wondering how the Suss'risa could understand something that Daniel's own mind and memory didn't.  The Suss'risa thought quietly a moment, frowning.  Then it shook itself.  "You have given us much to consider," was all it said.  "Give me a chair, please."  This was directed at the nearest human, who happened to be Sam.  As she quickly pulled a chair over, the Suss'risa raised a conspiratorial brow at Daniel.

~Don't you dare...~

It sat down with a wink at Daniel.  "Thank you, Samantha," it said.

"Um, you're welcome."

"Are we going to just allow this?" Colonel Simmons suddenly demanded.  Daniel had been peripherally aware of his fear and anger when the Suss'risa first entered, but it seemed that the anger had won out over the fear.

"Ya know, there were about a thousand Jaffa on Kheb who asked that same question," Jack drawled.  "They got charbroiled for their troubles."

Simmons subsided, fear again rising over the anger.

Jack was perfectly aware that the Suss'risa weren't as powerful as the Ascended, but apparently Simmons didn't know the difference.

"And thank you for your escort, General Hammond and Teal'c," the Suss’risa continued, giving Simmons an amused glance in passing.  Daniel noticed for the first time that Teal's was also there.  He and the General nodded their acknowledgement.

"And you, Daniel Jackson, thank you for the use of your corporeal form."

A stream of images flashed through Daniel's mind.  A mountainous planet with a nebula that filled its night sky, a serious talk with someone who held some importance to the Suss'risa, and lots of physical activity that a 'spirit' could never experience: running, climbing, hiking, dancing...playing.

~You're welcome.~

"Come," it said.

Daniel, still weak from his hunger-strike, heaved himself up and padded over to sit at the Suss'risa's feet.  Chin on knee, Daniel looked into his own blue eyes, then suddenly found himself looking down into deep brown eyes under twitchy brows.

"Lucky?" he asked.

"Buhf," Lucky answered.

Daniel leaned down, running his fingers through the warm brown fur in wonder.  "Hey, buddy," he whispered.  "Thanks for the lift.  I couldn’t have done it without you."  The dog looked at him solemnly, giving him a tired lick to the hand.

When Daniel looked up and around the room he felt almost blind.  Although his full range of colors were back, his sense of smell was virtually gone, and his hearing severely curtailed.  "Um, it's me, guys," he said feeling overwhelming joy at speaking out loud again for the first time in over two months.  He stood up.  "I'm back.  The Suss'risa's gone."

Everyone continued to stare cautiously at him.  "Spacemonkey?" Jack asked.

Daniel smiled.  "Yeah, Jack, it's me."

"Well, I'm sure we're all very glad that Dr. Jackson is returned to us," Simmons announced, a false smile firmly pasted on his face.

Daniel didn't need his canine senses to read the thwarted anger roiling under the man's smarmy veneer.  There was a small stack of paperwork on a nearby desk.  Daniel picked up the papers, very deliberately rolled them up into a tube, and then hit Simmons on the nose with it.  “How do you like it, Colonel?” he demanded.

In the stunned silence that followed, Jack could be heard choking as he desperately tried to turn his laughter to a cough.  General Hammond wheeled around and fixed Simmons with an icy glare.  “Colonel Simmons, am I to understand that you struck Dr. Jackson?”

Simmons flushed red with both anger and embarrassment.  For once the slickly self-assured man was speechless.  “I--well--I--I felt doubt that the dog was really Dr. Jackson and--and I--  Of course I offer my most profound apologies.”

Daniel’s glare was no less icy than the General’s.  “Of course you do.”

Hammond continued to stare at Simmons.  "Colonel, when the Suss'risa arrived through the Stargate, the SGC attempted to contact Area 51.  For some reason, we couldn't get through.  You wouldn't have any knowledge of that, would you?"

Red seemed to be the new permanent color of Simmons' face and Daniel was so glad that he was able to see that particular shade again.  "I--no, I have no special knowledge of anything like that."

"That's good, Colonel," Hammond said.  "Because while interference with interstate communications is a federal offense, I imagine interference with military communications is an even greater offense."

Simmons gave a vague nod and began to sidle out of the room.  "Yes, I imagine so.  Well, I must be going, General, Dr. Ingco..."  He gave the glowering Teal'c a wide berth, made it through the doorway, and kept on going.

"Uh, Daniel?" Jack asked.  "Just out of morbid curiosity, what did you do to make Simmons smack you?"

"Um...  I peed on his shoe."

Everyone stared at him in disbelief and were rewarded by that rarest of sights: a grin on the face of Daniel Jackson.  Then Jack gave a great whoop of laughter, dealing Daniel a resounding clap on the back.  Grinning like a loon herself, Sam embraced Daniel.  Daniel was never so grateful for arms in his life; it felt like the most natural thing in the world to hug her back.

"Thank you for keeping me safe, Daniel," Sam said, her voice sounding suspiciously thick.

"It's okay, Sam.  I--I--"  _I love you_.  That's what he wanted to say.

Sam withdrew to arm's length, red-rimmed eyes blinking, searching his now serious face.  "You what?"

"Nothing.  I'm glad you're okay."

Dr. Ingco clasped his hands together with excessive cheeriness.  "Never let it be said that I wouldn't admit to being wrong," he proclaimed as if expecting congratulations.  "Your consciousness certainly _was_ trapped in the dog.  I hope your stay here wasn't too hard."

Daniel just stared at him, unwilling to berate the doctor for his callous treatment of what he thought was just a dog, but equally unwilling to absolve him either.  The lab assistants were clustered together along one wall, looking anywhere but at him.  Call him petty, but he wasn't about to say he was sorry for nipping them without an apology from them first.

When Daniel didn't answer, Ingco went blithely on.  "Just so the time we spent here is not a complete waste, perhaps you could leave the dog with us so that we may run further tests?"

Simultaneously, Daniel, Sam, Jack, Teal'c and General Hammond all shouted, "No!"

Ingco stumbled back a few steps and the lab techs tightened their defensive cluster.

"Speaking of Lucky, I think he could really use some water and food," Daniel said.

Jack gestured to the door.  "Commissary, here we come."

Sam patted Lucky gently on the head.  "Lucky, heel."  The dog moved slowly but steadily at her side.  Clearly the training he'd received when he was host to Daniel held true.  And his devotion to Sam transcended Daniel's influence.

The group made it out to the hallway before finding they had one last hurtle to clear.  A middle-aged man with general's stars barreled down the corridor at them.

"Just what in the Sam Hill is going on here?!" he demanded.  "Hammond!  Did I hear correctly?  Did you bring a dangerous alien onto my base?!"

Hammond met him nose to nose.  "Goldman!  Did I hear correctly?  Did you order a Pentagon goon onto my base to abscond with one of my most valuable people?!"

"That's not the same thing and you know it!"

"No, it's worse!"

"Uh, let's just go on ahead, shall we?"  Jack led his team away double time, the sound of Hammond and Goldman's 'discussion' only beginning to fade several corridors down.  At the nearest mess they ordered a feast, all of them suddenly ravenous in the aftermath of the excitement.  They put a plate on the floor, keeping it well-supplied with foods that Daniel knew for a fact were Lucky's favorites.

"Holy Hannah, Daniel, I don't even know where to begin," Sam said, staring at him like she didn't know how to stop.

"Begin with whether or not that Sissy-thing is really gone," Jack ordered.  "Can you still see the afterlife?"

"Spirit-world, Jack," Daniel corrected with a smile, "and no, I can't, but I'm as sure as I can be that it's gone."

"Daniel," Sam said, "how can I even begin to say thank you--"

Daniel waved a hand in dismissal.  "I should be thanking you for the rescue just now."

Sam grimaced.  "If I'd know the Suss'risa was coming, I would've spared myself the embarrassment of 'blonde mode.'"

Sam explained her strategy, to the very great amusement of Jack.  After the meal, they all trooped into the men's room.  Sam took off the lab coat, wet it, and used it as a cloth to clean Lucky up.  By the time he shook himself dry, he was feeling good enough to jump up and lick Sam on the chin.  She touched Daniel's arm as they left the washroom.  "Now I have the best of both worlds, you and Lucky."

Daniel smiled.  "Me too, although I can't say I really thought that far ahead."

Hammond came stalking down the hallway to join them.  "SG-1, we have a 'copter waiting," he said curtly.

"Victory, sir?" Jack asked.

Hammond gave a smile of grim satisfaction.  "You know it, Colonel."


	10. Coming Home

The helicopter proved too loud for conversation.  Daniel and Sam found themselves sitting next to one another, Lucky squeezed between them.  Their hands met often as they stroked the dog, both of them smiling in strained apology and looking away.

At the Mountain, the walk from the elevators to the Infirmary took over an hour, so many people had turned out to welcome him 'back.'  Nyan was first, waiting as the doors slid open, a grin gracing the usually serious young man's face.  Then came more of Daniel's Anth/Arch people, various SG team members, Siler and his crew, some control room personnel, and tons of SFs and Marines.  Daniel was touched by the outpouring of joy to see him again coming from all quarters.  And if most people greeted Lucky just as enthusiastically as himself, Daniel didn't mind.

In the Infirmary, Janet was so happy to have Daniel back the way he should be, she let Lucky inside to wait with the rest of SG-1.

"Hey, Doc," Jack called through the curtain.  "Better check him for a case of the Intergalactic Clap."

"Jack, the Suss'risa didn't do anything like that!" Daniel protested.  "I, uh, I don't think..."

"Daniel, you dog."

"It wasn't me!"

"Really, though, you have no idea what that Sissy was doing with your body."

"Thanks for the mental image, Jack."

"Anytime, buddy.  Just lookin' out for ya."

The General had called for a debrief after the Infirmary checkup, and soon Hammond and SG-1 with Lucky were seated around the table. 

"General, before we get into the details of my story," Daniel began before anyone could speak, "could you tell me exactly how the Suss'risa got here?"

"SG-9 had returned to Alutia to continue their investigation," Hammond answered.  "When they arrived at the temple, however, the High Priest had a surprise for them."

"Me.  Uh, well, you know what I mean."

"Score one for Dumbledore," Jack said grudgingly.

"It really wasn't his fault, Jack."

"The...spirit requested to be taken to you, so Major Kovachek returned straightaway," the General continued.  "As communications were down between the SGC and Groom Lake," Hammond paused while Jack muttered what sounded suspiciously like an obscenity, "Teal'c and I escorted it to Nevada ourselves."

"But how can we be sure the thing is gone?" Jack asked.  "It could be floating around anywhere and we wouldn't know.  Hey, Lucky!"  The dog's head shot up and he trotted around to Jack, tail wagging.  "Look for the Sissy, boy!" Jack ordered waving his hand around in the air.  "C'mon, look all around!"  Lucky panted in incomprehension, then reared up onto Jack's lap and licked his chin.

"Thank you, Colonel," Hammond said dryly.  "But I have a more scientific method.  Sgt. Harriman informs me that while we were gone, a wormhole mysterious engaged without the benefit of dialing.  The timing places it just a few minutes after you were restored, Dr. Jackson."

"The Suss’risa returning home," Daniel guessed.

"Yes, we believe so," the General confirmed.  "And now, Doctor, if you could enlarge on your experience for the record."

Daniel gladly filled them in on the details he couldn't communicate before, his error in judgement that started the whole mess, the warrantless hostility of the evil Suss'risa for Sam, his efforts on Sam's behalf, the murder of Notch'taw, the Dark One's downfall. 

When everyone's questions began to taper off, Daniel looked down and said, "I, uh, I'm really sorry for the scene I made when Simmons took me.  I just--"

"No," Sam interrupted looking at him fiercely.  "Don't you dare apologize for that."

"Um, okay..."  He blinked at the closed-off expressions of his teammates.  "Well, then at least let me apologize about that whole howling thing when Sam first left the base."  He was glad to see the others relax into smiles at the memory and he continued, "It was hard for me to piece together what was going on because I only had snippets of conversations to go on, and suddenly Sam was gone and I was in the stockade and I guess I just…”

“Lost it?” Jack supplied.

“Um, yeah.”

Sam's smile faded and she peered tentatively at the teammate who'd done so much for her.  "Daniel, you guarded me against so many dangers--"

"Yeah, especially that cow," Jack remarked.

"That cow was as big as a mothership, Jack," Daniel countered.

"Thank you for saving my life, Daniel," Sam continued firmly, ignoring their repartee.

Daniel squirmed.  "It's what anyone would've done--"

Sam wouldn't be swayed.  "But you were the one who did it.  Let me thank you."

"Okay," he finally said, peering at her almost shyly.  "You're welcome, Sam."

“Just one last thing I still don’t understand, Daniel,” Jack said with a raised finger.

“What’s that?”

“Why did you eat Carter’s slippers?”

Daniel blushed, glaring at him in betrayal.  As Jack had behaved during the whole debrief, Daniel should have known it wouldn't last.  Unfortunately, Sam and Teal’c didn’t come to his rescue, and even General Hammond looked at him in curiosity.  “Um, well, it smelled good--”  Everyone raised their brows at that, especially Sam, but no one challenged him, so he continued, “And--and I just--you know--and then I looked down and it was pretty much gone…”  He trailed off.

“Okay,” Jack finally said.  “That explains the first slipper, what about the second?”

Amazingly, Daniel blushed harder.

***

After the debrief was over, SG-1 agreed to meet at Sam's house for dinner that night.  And Daniel, once he got a jump from Siler for his long-disused car, drove home, alone. 

He walked into his apartment, tossed his keys on the rack, closed the door behind him, alone.  How long had it been since he'd been truly alone?  Not just running to save someone, but to have time to himself.  Time to think, time to...  Well, to sit on his own couch for one thing. 

So he sat on the couch. 

He took a deep breath.  Yes, this is what he needed.  Time to sit.  And think.  To think about...stuff.

He looked around his home with new eyes, at his walls and shelf-space, crowded with artifacts and ancient art.  None of personal.  None of it holding any meaning to his life.  This was more museum than home.  Really not a 'home' at all, but simply an apartment, a place to eat and sleep, nothing more.  It was as empty and silent as a tomb.  A burial site waiting to be catalogued.  What did this place and these objects say about the resident?  That he worked hard.  That he lived alone.

That he lived alone.

Daniel got up, grabbed his keys and left the quiet apartment behind.

***

When Sam and Lucky got home that evening, she wandered through her house, unable to shake the feeling that something was missing.  Lucky seemed to feel it too.  At first he charged eagerly through the house.  But after his initial rush he slowed down, sniffing, searching, looking questioningly at her.

"Yeah, boy, I feel it too," she said, patting his head.  She loved Lucky and she knew the dog loved her, but there was an element missing now, and they both knew it.  He gave a little whine and she sighed.  "It's just the two of us now, goofball."

She pulled a couple of his toys out and he cheered up.  She went to work, getting the house in order for guests.  At some point she heard the dog-door flap and took a peek out the back window.  If she had any last doubts that Lucky was just a regular dog now, they were laid to rest when she saw what he was doing right in the center of her lawn.  The Colonel had made a promise to help her keep her yard clean and she intended to hold him to it.

When Sam checked next, the dog had disappeared from view.  She was about to go out back to track him down when she heard a commotion at the front door.  Answering the knock, she found a leaping, licking Lucky joyfully attacking Daniel. 

Holding up now-filthy glasses in one hand and a six-pack of his favorite microbrew beer in the other, Daniel edged forward into the house, giving Sam a rueful smile.  "Um, I think we may want to block off a certain little hidden escape-hatch out in the backyard."

"The Colonel can help you while he's on doo-doo duty," Sam said with a grin.

Daniel raised a brow but couldn't reply as Lucky scored a direct hit on his mouth.  "Ugh!  Lucky, down!  You're not a puppy!"  To Sam, he asked, "Was I really this bad?"

Sam laughed.  "No, you were worse."

Again a raised brow.  "That's hard to believe..."  He gave Lucky a stern glare.  "Lucky, I know you know how to behave!  Now sit!"  The dog reluctantly obeyed, sitting politely though he still vibrated with pleasure.  Handing off the beer to Sam and putting his glasses in a pocket, Daniel hunkered down, scratching Lucky under the chin.  "Thank you, boy.  I missed you too."

Sam watched, smiling, and the thought came: Yes, this is what's missing; this is what I need.  And, god help her, she didn't fight it.  Didn't even try to suppress the feeling of rightness that came with that thought.

Daniel gave the dog a thorough rubdown, laughing when Lucky rolled over for a belly rub.  "Well, Jack will be happy about that..."

Lucky eventually calmed down, and Daniel came into the kitchen with Sam, curious to see the dog's food preparation from the other side.  While Lucky watched, the two moved through the kitchen in concert, the familiarity of close friends, the easy exchange of longtime and like-minded comrades.  After Lucky had been provided for, Daniel insisted they didn't need to order out for the team dinner, that he could whip up a killer batch of fried rice.  Jack and Teal'c arrived as a big pot of rice went on the stove. 

Sam immediately motioned Jack to join her in the backyard, thrusting an old plastic bag in his hands.  "Remember your promise, sir?"

"What promise?"

She pointed at Lucky's 'gift' on the lawn.

"Aw, man.  Daniel!" he called back into the house.  When the archeologist came out, Jack asked, "Can you get Lucky to do his business where you did?  Where did you do it, by the way?"

"Ah.  Let's just say you won't need to fertilize the bushes anytime soon, Sam."

Sam laughed and sipped at the bottle of beer Daniel had brought out to her.  "I thought dogs buried their droppings anyhow."

"No, that's bones, Carter," Jack said, tying off the now-filled bag and holding it at arm's length.

"That kicking thing they do is actually to broadcast the smell as far as possible," Daniel remarked.  At Sam's stare of incomprehension, he explained, "To claim as big a territory as possible.  I, uh, managed to suppress that instinct."

"Thank you."

When the rice finished, Teal'c whipped up his usual, and surprisingly good, Chulakan salad, and Daniel raided Sam's fridge for leftover veggies and chicken to round out the meal.

After they ate, they adjourned to the living room.  With good food, good company, and a bottle of good beer, Daniel relaxed.  He sat at one end of the couch, Sam beside him, Lucky on the floor lying across both their feet.  They spoke of the earthquake on P1K-564, Sam making him describe at length what he had sensed, bemoaning the fact that she couldn't publish. 

Jack wanted to know what it felt like to run so fast; he spent some time outlining his movie concept of Daniel as some kind of half-man, half-dog superhero, only subsiding when Daniel pointed out the prison-time he could expect for revealing classified information. 

Teal'c was curious about the canine sense of smell and how it could be utilized in military applications.

"So," Sam said with a grin, "do we continue to take Lucky with us on missions?"

"Um, he might need a little extra training," Daniel warned.

"What?  Teal'c and I already trained him," Jack said.  He held up a finger to forestall an outburst from Daniel.  "Even if it was you in there too, I'm sure the training stuck."

"Jack, I think I'm a little smarter than the average dog," Daniel said, then frowned and muttered, "At least I hope I am."

"Lucky's above average," Jack declared loyally.  He scratched Lucky behind the ear.  Tail thumping, the dog rolled over for a belly rub.  "See!" Jack crowed.  "Look what he can do without you holding him back!"

Daniel rolled his eyes as Sam grinned.  Teal'c said, "I shall endeavor to ascertain the extent of training Lucky still retains.  I believe that on certain missions, a well-trained canine would give SG-1 a distinct advantage."

Jack shrugged.  "No argument here.  Though I'm betting Hammond'll see it differently."

Daniel drained the last of his beer, letting his head flop back with a sigh.  “I can’t believe I ate a gopher,” he stated solemnly.

Sam and Jack exchanged a grin, and when Teal'c inquired gravely, "Did the gopher taste like chicken, Daniel Jackson?" all three humans laughed while the Jaffa allowed himself a smile.

Jack stood up.  "Okay, what's for dessert?  Ice cream?"

"Sounds good, sir, but I don't have any left.  When Janet and her Maenads descended they cleaned me out."

"Notice how I'm not even gonna ask what that means.  All I know is I want my chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry."

“God, Jack, Neapolitan?” Daniel groaned.  “Newsflash, this is not 1955.”

"Smartass.  Keep it up and I won't get your Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey."  Jack grabbed his coat and keys.  "C'mon, T, gimme a hand."

"As you wish, O'Neill."

When they were alone, Sam offered Daniel some coffee.  "Oh, god, yes, please!  It's been so long!"  When it was finished brewing, Sam brought a couple mugs out.  She gave one to Daniel and curled up back on the couch again, listening to Daniel gulp and sigh with pleasure.  Peering at him over the rim of her mug, Sam raised a brow.  "Sooo, did you enjoy Janet's little soirée the other night?"

Daniel suddenly found the ceiling very interesting.  "Um, anthropologically speaking, it was a very interesting example of subgroup bonding rituals--"

Sam laughed.  "Once the girls start thinking about the timeline, they're not going to let you off so easily."

Daniel's smile was strained.  "I did try to keep my voyeurism to a minimum."

"Yes, you did, and I thank you for not watching me change in the bedroom."

[ ](http://s71.photobucket.com/albums/i121/PattRose1/A%20Dogs%20Life/?action=view&current=danielsam4.jpg)

With a wince, Daniel said, "Yes, well, that wasn't the only bedroom activity I avoided.  I made sure to give you and Jack plenty of alone time."

Sam looked up from her cup.  "What?"

“And don't worry, I won’t stay too long tonight.  I’m sure you and Jack want to--that you two want--well, you know.”

"I know what?" Sam asked, mystified.

"Now that I'm out of your way, you and Jack, well, you can be together again." 

"Be together to do what?"  It seemed obvious what he was implying, but Sam couldn't understand where this was coming from.

"To do what you would've been doing if I hadn't been underfoot the last two months," Daniel said with completely irritating reasonableness.

"Daniel, that doesn't even make any sense.  We didn't know it was _you_ , so what was supposedly stopping us from doing whatever it was we were supposedly doing?"  Okay, that was irritating too, but he deserved it.

"Sam, you don't have to put on an act for me," he burst out.  Jumping up, he began to pace, Lucky giving an annoyed snuff and moving to a quieter part of the room.  "I know about what you guys said at the Zatarc testing."

Sam went cold, lurching to her feet.  "How do you...?  What did you hear?"

"Anise told me everything.  Guess I can't count on any of my three teammates to tell me the truth."

"What?  What truth?  What did that--that parasitical space-strumpet tell you?"

Daniel's brows raised at that, but he answered with some heat, "She told me you and Jack confessed your love for one another, okay?"

Sam stared, speechless.

He stopped pacing and turned to face her.  "And it's okay."  He ran a calming hand through his hair and gave a stiff smile.  "I'm okay with it, with you two.  I'm a little insulted that you all felt I couldn't handle the truth, but I hope that I'm showing you right now how rational I can be." 

If Sam was irritated before, Daniel's air of self-sacrificing nobleness put her right over the edge.

"No, you're showing me right now how big a moron you can be."

Now it was Daniel's turn to stare, speechless.  Then he flushed, his brows lowering with anger.  "Listen--"

"No, you listen!  And don't you even think about acting like the wronged party here."  She threw her hands up in frustration.  "Really?  Sacrificing yourself for Jack's and my happiness?  This is _exactly_ why I didn't want what we said to leave that room, because people would think it meant that we _loved_ each other,” she said, emphasizing the word derisively.  “It doesn't mean that at all.  All four of us care too much.  Yes, the Colonel's an attractive man.  Yes, we indulged in a little flirting.  But there will never be anything between us beyond a deep mutual respect and the love of close teammates."

Daniel stood with his arms crossed, clearly unconvinced.

"Besides, he's never truly gotten over his ex-wife.  And he knows I have strong feeling for someone else."

"Who!?” Daniel shouted, then cleared his throat, continuing quieter, “I mean--I don't--it's not really any of my, uh, you know, my business..."  Daniel adjusted his glasses, trying to appear unconcerned, then gave up the act with a huff of exasperation.  "Who!?"

Sam folded her arms.  "Someone at the SCG," she stated.

"Graham Simmons?" he asked doubtfully.

"Someone I work closely with.  Someone I care about greatly and who cares about me."

"Teal'c?" 

Sam shook her head.  "Someone I can talk to, professionally and personally."

"Um, Janet?"

Sam pursed her lips to stop a smile, unfolded her arms and began to advance on Daniel.  "Someone who shares my interests, who understands me, who lets me babble until I'm sure he's been daydreaming then asks me something that shows he's been listening the whole time."

"Um..."

She came to halt right in front of him, so close she could feel the heat from his body.  "Someone I would do anything for.  Someone who risked everything for me, his life, his very existence, to keep me safe."

She pressed herself against him, bringing their faces only inches apart.  "Someone I would die for.  But I'd really rather live for."

"Um, me?" he whispered, afraid of the answer.

"I love you, Daniel."

"Sam, I…"  Daniel cupped Sam’s cheek.  “I love you.”  He brought their lips together for a tender kiss.

Neither of them noticed Lucky rolling his eyes and giving them a doggy huff of exasperation before settling back down to his nap.

Equally they didn't notice Jack and Teal'c standing in the entryway, bags of melting ice cream forgotten as the two men exchanged a bemused glance.

Then Jack bounced on the balls of his feet and nudged Teal’c.  “See?  Told ya he was lucky.”

[ ](http://s71.photobucket.com/albums/i121/PattRose1/A%20Dogs%20Life/?action=view&current=endingpic3.jpg)

  



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